


Spellbound

by Zavijah



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Cryptageweek, Eventual Smut, Fantasy AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Medieval AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26845909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zavijah/pseuds/Zavijah
Summary: In the aftermath of a war, Elliott, a mage, travels with his fellows as they scrape together a living. When he discovers a stowaway — an enigmatic, dark-haired man called Tae — hiding in his wagon, Elliott finds his troubles have only just begun.Written for #CryptageWeek | 2020 | Day 4: AU
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 67
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

“Ramya!” Elliott stomped down the wooden stairs of his covered wagon and immediately stuffed his hands into the wide, yellow sleeves of his mage robe as the night’s chill hit him. He stalked toward the campfire, his eyes intent on the woman sitting there, but jerked to a halt when a low, hair-rising growl cut through the air. Elliott’s gaze slid from Ramya to the horrible beast laying in the grass behind her. The noise rumbling from it had been non-stop for the last hour. “You need to shut that thing up.”

“That thing has a name,” Ramya replied while flicking a bark chip into the fire.

“That _thing_ ,” — that he was keeping a generous, healthy distance from — “Is going to attract the wrong kind of attention for us.”

“Do you hear that, Sheila?” Ramya cooed at the pony-sized monstrosity of fangs and fur. “You’re scaring Mr. Witt.”

“I am—” He grit his teeth. “I was trying to _sleep_ but that infern-fern-null — that damn thing is keeping me awake!”

Ramya feigned a gasp and grinned crookedly at her beastly companion. “Even worse, you’ve ruined his beauty sleep.”

“ _Ramya_ —”

“Face it, mate, ain’t enough sleep in the world that’ll fix a mug like yours.”

The barb momentarily threw Elliott off-kilter. His face wasn’t horribly scared — _nicked_ was a better word for more noticeable marks. A faded line over one eye and another over the bridge of his nose. His beard, however, had seen better days. Elliott frowned as he smoothed a hand over it, admitting that it had been a while since he’d trimmed it. They’d been on the road for a fortnight with only a handful of magic-fearing towns along the way. While they were allowed to pass through without trouble, even barter for supplies, any hopes of a warm bath and bed were out of the question.

Sheila growled, loud enough to disturbed the wagon horses that had otherwise grown accustom to the wolf-beast traveling with them.

Elliott dropped his hand. “Make it stop.”

“Oh calm down, ya pansy.” Ramya lifted her chin. “She’s only scaring off whatever is tryin’ ta sneak up on us.”

A chill, one unrelated to the cold air, zig-zagged up Elliott’s spine. The hairs raised on his arms as he turned away from the fire to gaze warily at the forest looming dark at the edge of the clearing. They’d pulled the wagons far enough from the road to have privacy, but shied away from the woods. The trees would have offered a nice wind break, but the potential of being ambushed by fanatical townfolk coming through the trees had been a more pressing concern.

“W-wha—” Elliott cleared his throat while twisting at the hem of his sleeve. “There’s something out there?”

Ramya’s grin shifted from the fire to land squarely on him, the gap between her front teeth more prominent and adding to the edge of her amusement. “Sheila certainly thinks so.”

She was prodding at him, like a kid jabbing a stick at a trapped rabbit to see how high it’d jump, and he straightened his back to ward against her riling attempts. “Could just be a cat.”

“Or a torch wielding mob.” She shrugged. “Fancy a look-see for yourself?”

“Out there?” His voice jumped an octave. “By myself?”

Ramya stuck out her lower lips in a mockery of thoughtfulness. “I suppose I could wake Renee, but she only just got to sleep.”

“Nonono!” Elliott frantically waved his hands, sending his sleeves flapping like goose wings. Renee rarely slept, a side effect of being of being hunted for in multiple dimensions. Waking her for something as trivial as a possible rabbit in the brush was not worth her cold wrath. “I’ll go — I’ll go.”

He fetched a lantern from his wagon and lit it with a twig from the fire. “Probably just a cat.”

“Or a bear,” Ramya added, helpful as always. Elliott shot her a sour look which earned him another flash of her patronizing grin. “Want Sheila to go with ya?”

“I’ll take my chances with getting mauled by a bear over being eaten alive by your demon pony.”

“Suit yourself, mate.”

For several deep breaths, Elliott stood at the edge of the circle of light provided by the fire, looking out in the night as he steeled his nerves and let his eyes adjust. The road to the west lead back to town. It sloped upward and curled around a hill like a dark snake, black, motionless, and empty under the wane starlight. Not a single torch of a passing traveler to blame for Sheila’s restless mood. Elliott’s gaze turned toward the forest and unease tightened in his chest.

“Just a cat,” he said and stepped away from the fire.

The wagon horses lifted their heads as he passed and began his search by walking around the wagons. He shined the lantern under each one. His own was empty. The light glinted off the beady eyes of a mouse foolish enough to scavenge for food under Nox’s sour smelling wagon. He skipped going near Renee’s tent out of fear of waking the woman and Natalie’s wagon was quiet save for the faint sound of snoring from inside. One of the ropes to Ramya’s tent came loose, by his own fingers, but otherwise was clear of any threats.

Sooner than he liked, Elliott’s search brought him to the edge of the forest. He lifted the lantern to stretch the light as far as it would go into the wall of trees. It barely made it a few feet before being gobbled up by shadows. His fingers tightened around the iron ring of the flickering lantern.

“There’s no bears in this area,” he told the great looming wall of imminent doom. “Vampires aren’t real and — and I’m not afraid of the dark.”

He glanced wistfully back at the circled wagons and banked fire, but knew slinking back toward them, like a dog with its tail between its legs, would only incite another round of needling comments from Ramya. Elliott took a small step forward. He’d make a quick pass through the outer trees and call it good. Bolstering himself with a deep breath, Elliott pressed forward into the woods.

Branches clawed at his robes and roots knocked against his ankles. The lantern creaked as it swung on its ring, wrenched around every time Elliott stumbled. He made enough noise, he figured, to scare off any and all critters lurking nearby. The sound of fabric ripping brought his progress to a halt. Heart sinking, Elliott pulled his robe free of a handsy bush and ran his hand along the material until his fingers found the fresh tears.

Elliott shot an accusing glare at the darkness yawning around him. If this was the spirits idea of a joke, he wasn’t amused. Fine. There were easier ways to scare off unwanted company than him stumbling around like a blind deer. Elliott set the lantern on the ground and the light bobbed, flickering over tree roots bulging from the ground like veins on the back of a hand.

He raised his arms, letting his sleeves fall back in a completely unnecessary motion, but showmanship had become his bread-and-butter since the end of the war. The townfolk always enjoyed a bit a flourish with a show. The flashier he was, the more coin he earned. Although, they’d probably be as equally entertained to watch him swing from the end of gallows rope in the middle of their town square.

It was what it was.

Elliott’s skin prickled as he pulled a tendril of power from the ether. It danced around his fingertips as softly glowing ribbons of blue light; mischievous and playful and as cool as spring water. He pointed the spiritual energy at the the shadowy woods and it sprang forward, eager to play, and expanded into the ghostly form of a man. It ran head long into the dark.

It barely made it two paces before the bush in its path erupted. The bush yelled a garbled curse, Elliott screamed, and the running spirit scattered into a hundred tiny, motes of shimmering light. The tether Elliott held with the ether pulsed with his fright, sending out several more versions of himself running in all directions, weaving between dark tree trunks like impish will-o-wisps. They were silent, not upsetting a single twig or leaf, which made the sound of fleeing footsteps all that much louder. It wasn’t hooves, or the patterned beat of four legs. Instead it held the unmistakable thud of _boots_.

Elliott kept still, his breaths stilted but quiet while his heart hammered at his ribs. The slip of magic should have been his moment to run, not freeze up like a possum. Someone had been there — _watching him_ — but they were gone now. Elliott straightened from where he’d crouched in surprise. The lantern’s light flickered, making shadows dance as if in a fit of laughter at his expense. The encroaching quiet crawled over Elliott’s skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck with a cool, ghostly touch.

Elliott whirled, empty palm outstretched and glowing, and was met with the sight of his own face, silvery-blue, pulling down its incorporeal eyelids and lips in a mockery of a monster.

“Very scary,” Elliott muttered dryly and waved his hand through its face, dispelling it. The last comet tails of blue light faded from the woods and the shadows thickened in their absence. Elliott picked up the lantern and took a large step backwards — toward the open field and the safety of camp. Once he broke the tree line, he spun, and froze again. On the road, several lanterns bobbed like boats on a black sea. Under the dull, orange light, armor glinted underneath the blue and white of matching tabards. The colors alone were sight enough to send Elliott’s heart plunging into the icy waters of fear.

Syndicate soldiers, gathered into a group near a band of magi, was never a good sign.

Elliott quickened his pace across the field, finding several more men near the campfire. Three of which remained on horseback, safe behind a barricade of soldiers who held up torches while staring pale-faced at where Sheila stood behind Ramya. The wolf-beast stood at height with her shoulder, its golden eyes flickered with the torch light while its low growl made he horses shift backwards.

“I don’t know what to tell you mates,” Ramya was saying to the mounted men. “Whatever you lost — it ain’t here.”

Elliott set his lantern next to the fire and risked being within Sheila’s chomping range by standing beside Ramya. He smiled, a strained thing that fluttered on the edges of a grimace, and spoke through a clenched jaw. “What’s going on here?”

The man in the middle, his skin blotchy behind his bushy mustache and his chainmail too shiny to have ever seen a day in battle, snapped his reins to momentarily still his horse’s nervous pawing. “We are looking for a man—”

“Plenty of those in town.” Interrupting the lordly-looking man wasn’t the wisest move, but Elliott was edgy around soldiers and his mouth was often the first thing to start twitching. Elliott grinned, and winked at the lord. “Though you might have to pay extra for whatever you’re looking for.”

The rustle of armor suggested a couple of the men had reached for the swords. Ramya grinned, her flash of teeth as dangerous as her wolf’s. Elliott spread his hands in a show of apology. “We, however, don’t offer those kind of services.”

The lord sneered. “The man we seek is a murderer and thief.”

“Ah.” Elliott nodded and glanced at where Nox had emerged from the back of his wagon, the faint clink of bottles heard as he moved to stand on the top step, leering at them all. The mix of torch light and shadows made it difficult to see anyone else, but Elliott had no doubt that the others were stirring. Elliott threaded his fingers together and twiddled his thumb.

“Well, good luck with that,” he said.

The lord peered at him, no doubt waiting for something a great deal more subservient to happen. An offer to allow them to ransack their camp, perhaps, and then a blubbering thank you for sparing their lowly, mage lives.

Ramy cocked her hip to one side as she swung her grin onto Elliott. “They want to search the camp, mate.”

“Yeah,” Elliott chuckled. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I told these plonkers as much.”

The lord’s chest swelled under the heavy chainmail. ”By the order of—”

“We’re protected under Blisk’s law,” Elliott stated with a smile of gritted teeth.

During the war, magi, such as himself, had been forced to serve on the front lines. They were used a tools of destruction to devastate enemy factions and leave rival lands barren, and they had quickly gathered an unflattering reputation. The common people saw them as bringers of death and despair and when the war ended, a fear-fueled culling swept across the lands. Magi were deemed dangerous abominations and forced into hiding until Blisk had taken the throne.

Bending knee to Blisk came at a cost, certain expectations and duties, but it was worth it for the protection it gave them from magic-fearing peasants and zealous head hunters.

“How many?” The lord snapped, clearly versed in the law he’d just tried to circumvent.

“Five, as is allowed.”

“It is within my rights to check the truth of that claim.”

Elliott visibly grimaced. “Y-yeah, it is, but — well, I guess we could stand by the road when you search Nox’s wagon because it’s vola-teal — volet — it’ll blow up.”

The soldiers, the ones that would have to carry out the lord’s orders, cast nervous glances at each other.

“Sheila ain’t letting you gits anywhere near my stuff,” Ramya added.

“Tems.” The lord turned to the man on his right, assumingly the captain of the soldiers with them. “Search the camp.”

“You don’t want to do that,” Renee’s voice came from beyond the overlapping rings of light, her pales eyes piercing the night as two full, glowing moons. Her tone was flat, cold, and made Elliott more nervous of her than the bristling wolf-beast behind Ramya. Behind Renee, Natalie’s young face gaped at them.

“As you see, five.” Elliott chimed.

Ramya snorted. “You really wanna piss us off, mate?”

Another growl, louder and accompanied by the baring of sharp teeth, was too much for the horses. They fought against their bits, one lifting in a rear. The unified group of chainmail and swords broke apart. The lord took one look at the the situation, dissolving well out of his control, and jerked his own horse in a tight circle in an effort to remain proud and tall in the saddle.

He spat on the ground between them. “I hope you all burn.”

“Nice meeting you!” Elliott waggled his fingers in a wave as the men retreated back to the road. The knot of tension between Elliott’s shoulders didn’t ease until the flicker of their torches and lanterns disappeared behind the hill. He exhaled, allowing his shoulders to slump, only to have them snap back up to his ears when Ramya nudged him with an elbow.

“Did ya find your cat?” she asked.

“My — what?”

Her infuriating grin returned. “Heard you scream, mate.”

“What? I didn’t—”

“Thought you might have surprised some girl with her knickers down it was such a shriek, but then one of your ghostly fiends came running through the camp and I knew something had gotten the drop on you.” Her brows raised. “Not that it’s hard to get—”

“Okay! Yes. I screamed, so what?” He turned toward his wagon. “It was just—”

 _Not a cat_.

A thread of unease stitched down Elliott’s sternum as he looked toward the empty road, recalling the lord’s words about searching for a murderer. Whatever had been in the woods had run. It was gone. Nothing to worry about. Besides which, no one in their right mind would try to sneak up on a band of magi while alone. Or so Elliott told himself after darting an uncertain glance toward the forest.

“What, Witt? You jump at your own shadow?”

He chewed over lip, not wanting to worry the others when they were already tense from the encounter with Syndicate soldiers. So he made a face, a deep and horrified frown, while miming a wiping motion across his eyes. “I walked into a spider web and it surprised me.”

Ramya cackled, satisfied by his cowardly answer, and returned to her spot by the fire.

He barely took a step before Renee caught him by the arm, her pupils once again visible in her pale eyes. “We leave at dawn.”

“Aye-aye,” He mockingly saluted her while silently agreeing that it was a good idea to high-tail it out of there before Syndicate roused more men for a rematch.

The stairs of his wagon creaked as he climbed up and slipped through the covering. With a bit of fumbling he managed to light a candle and set it on the narrow shelf above his bed. He stripped down to his underpants and took care to hang his robe, frowning as his fingers once again found the new rips. Mending it only fixed it so much. Eventually he’d have to let it go. But not yet.

Elliott moved over to his chest to find a sewing kit, but paused upon noticing his blanket haphazardly thrown over half of it. He looked back at his bed to assure himself that yes, it was his blanket but he didn’t recall when or why he’d thrown it by the chest. His eyes flicked over the clutter of supplies and sentimental belongings he owned. Nothing else looked out of place.

Maybe he’d thrown it off in a fit of annoyance upon clambering out of his wagon to confront Ramya about Sheila’s incessant growling.

He reached for the blanket and, as soon as his fingers curled around the fabric, it leapt at him. Elliott jerked back, but there was only so much room in the wagon, and he caught his heel on the edge of his bed and fell to the floor, wrestling with the heavy blanket the whole way.

A blanket brandishing a dagger and intent on burying it into his chest.

Elliott wedged a knee between him and the blanket and threw it off. All at once, as the blanket was shoved aside, the man appeared. A slender, young-faced man with dark eyes and darker hair. The dagger stole the rest of Elliott’s attention as the man lunged. Elliott was stronger, better trained, but the man was _fast_ and _frantic_ and Elliott was going to end up as shredded as his robes if he didn’t find a way to end things.

Blue light coiled around his fingertips and he was relieved to see the man slide back, defensive and wary of the unknown threat of magic. It put a tense buffer between them, but it was all Elliott needed to think and think fast. As a spirit mage, his magic was (mostly) harmless, but the man glaring at him didn’t know it was a bluff. The advantage was small, but Elliott had long ago learned to survive on his wits and the skills he picked up along the way. And, if he could, he avoided fighting because it brought up too much pain.

The light faded but Elliott kept his palms up and opened in a gesture of peace. The man didn’t lower his dagger, but he also didn’t press a second attack. Something wet trickled down Elliott’s cheek and soaked into his beard. The sting came as the adrenaline thrumming through his veins left. He touched his cheek and frowned when his fingers came away bloody. Nicked again, it seemed.

Tension rolled of the man’s posture like a flashing thunderhead darkening over a quiet valley. He shifted his weight, gripped and re-gripped the dagger, and the muscle in his jaw flexed like a heartbeat. His dark eyes constantly flicked toward the back of the wagon while the dagger remained ready to strike forward with the tenacity and accuracy of a viper.

Slowly, Elliott lowered his arms, then went so far as to sit down on the edge of the bed to appear less threatening. He prodded at the gash on his cheek, trying to stem the bleeding. The man stopped glancing toward the exit and, with a confused pinch between his brows, scrutinized Elliott.

In return, Elliott studied the man. Thin, like he hadn’t eaten right for weeks. Twitchy, like Renee when she felt like someone was watching her. The man was young, but not naive; a darkness lurked over his expression and in his eyes, as if he’d lived too much too fast. Elliott had seen similar, haunted faces during the war. Gaze lowering, Elliott took note of his clothes. Dirty, torn, and wrapped around him in such a way it looked like he’d been sleeping outdoors instead of risking his head under a warm, dry roof.

“Witt?” Ramya’s voice came from outside the wagon.

The man stiffened and his knuckles went white around the dagger hilt.

Elliott hesitated a half second before calmly answering, “Yeah?”

“Makin’ quite the racket, do I dare ask what you’re up to in there?”

“I stubbed my toe,” he lied.

There was a pause, one that tightened a knot of tension between Elliott’s shoulders. Ramya, a mage tightly attuned to her beast, could probably smell the blood. She knew, enough, to be on edge.

“On what?” Her voice was as low as Sheila’s growl and just as equally void of jest.

A crooked grin broke across Elliott’s face as he looked from the wagon covering to his attacker. “On my cat.”

There was another pause, followed by the sharp bark of a laugh. “Got the jump on you, eh?”

“He’s a sneaky one.”

“Want me to teach him some manners?”

“No, he’s —” Probably tired, hungry, and haggard from being on the run. The dagger remained in play, but had lowered a couple inches, and the man’s expression had shifted from desperation to bemusement. “He’s fine.”

“Well,” Ramya said and Elliott heard her sheath the blade she must have been holding. “If ya need anything, just scream like a little girl.”

The bridge of Elliott’s nose wrinkled as he muttered, “I don’t scream like a girl.”

The distancing sound of Ramya’s laughter suggested she’d been able to hear him, reminding him again her heightened senses. He glared at the wagon coverings until a movement from the man — a sheathing of the dagger — brought his attention back just in time to catch the head to toe look over the man gave him.

Elliott’s stomach swooped and he crossed an arm over it. Sitting there in just his underpants, he felt oddly judged. War had kept him trim and in shape, but it also left him scarred and, without the constant activity of battle, his stomach had grown soft over the last couple of years. He grabbed his long, nightshirt from his bed and pulled it over his head, more concerned about his looks than the blood he ended up smearing over the fabric. His hand went to his beard, recalling how bushy it’d grown, and immediately planned to trim it in the morning.

Elliott snapped his hand down, angry at himself for caring about what the man — the man that had tried to kill him! — had judged about him in that single look. _Gods above_ , he inwardly cursed as his hand worked back up to brush back his disheveled hair. _I am a right fool._

“I’m going to assume you’re the man Syndicate wanted and, don’t worry, I’m not going to ask why they’re looking for you.” Elliott said. “They said you’re a murderer and — well, you did just try to — but you don’t look like — whatever.” Elliott waved dismissively. “Water under the bridge, okay? Because I know they’ll lie to get what they want. So whether or not you are what they say you are…”

He trailed off, giving the man a moment to explain his side of the story, but the man did little but keep a shrewd look pinned on him. Elliott inwardly sighed, then, upon recalling the gibberish shouted in the forest, realized that maybe the man didn’t speak the common tongue. Having no other language to test, Elliott carried on in common. “It doesn’t matter, okay? In fact, I hope it was one of them that you killed.”

The lack of reply was becoming a little daunting. Elliott clasped his hands and threaded his fingers to keep from fidgeting. “So, we’re leaving at dawn. We could probably smuggle you down as far as the border. That’ll give you a decent head start. I’m not sure how far south they’ll chase you. Hammond doesn’t normally let Syndicate soldiers cross into his territory.”

The man didn’t move, poised like a rabbit ready to spring away at the slightest hint of a threat. The idea of letting the man go, to fend for himself in the woods with Syndicate hot on his trail, didn’t sit well with Elliott. He’d lost friends and family to head hunters and didn’t want any more guilt weighing on his shoulders. If he could convince the guy to stay, long enough to catch a couple hours of sleep and eat a half-decent meal, then maybe it wouldn’t gnaw on his conscious as much.

“Hungry?” Elliott asked. The man leaned toward the back of the wagon, wary. Elliott sighed and mimed the motion of eating from a plate. “Hungry? Food?”

The man squinted in reply.

“This is dumb,” Elliott grumbled and pulled a satchel from under his bed. As the man watched with a hand not so secretly place against the hilt of the dagger, Elliott spread a meager assortment of food on the floor between them. Nuts, a bit of cheese, a square of flat bread, and the last bits of jerky from the deer Ramya had brought to camp over a week ago.

The man stared openly at the food, but had yet to break from his rigid stance other than to bite down on his lower lip. Elliott’s gaze hinged on the man’s cracked lips, his mouth suddenly as dry as the man’s lips looked and, after tearing his gaze away, he set a water flask next to the food.

When the man still didn’t budge, Elliott picked up one of the nuts, showed it to him, and popped it into his own mouth. “Just food. Not poisoned or anything.”

It didn’t take any further convincing before the man was kneeling and stuffing the nuts into his mouth. The water went next. He started on the bread and cheese after slipping the jerky into his pockets. Elliott watched him with no small amount of fascination. He’d encountered mages on the run before, and people just down on their luck, and it always felt gratifying to help them. In a way, it eased the hurt and regret he carried with him from the past.

“What’s your name?” Elliott asked, unable to curb his growing curiosity toward his twitchy guest.

The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but said nothing.

“Name?” Elliott tried again to no avail. He pointed to his own chest. “Elliott.” Then pointed at the man and raised his brows to make the unspoken question clear.

The man looked down, between the food and water and Elliott’s outstretched hand. He frowned and a slow, quiet anger knitted over his features. His posture was tensing again, ready to either lash out or run, and Elliott let his arm drop. “It’s fine.” Even if the disappointment reflected in his tone. “If you’re a wanted man, then I understand why you wouldn’t want to—”

“Tae.”

Elliott blinked, surprised not only by the response but the soft, deep pitch of the man’s voice. He waited a breath longer before repeating the word. “Tae?”

“Tae-joon,” Tae said more quietly, as if embarrassed.

“Well, nice to meet you Tae-joon.” He would have stuck out his hand for a shake if he thought Tae would do more than eye it with suspicion. “Now that that’s over with, I have to figure out how to convince the others to let you stay.” He flashed a wry grin. “Renee will probably scold me about feeding a stray, even a cute half-starved cat like you.”

Something flickered in Tae’s eyes and Elliott’s stomach dropped with the alarmed thought of his careless comment having been understood. He sprang to his feet, starling Tae upright as well. “Sorry — no, I need to talk to the others. You just — stay.” He waved his hands as calmingly as he could while his heart raced. “Stay. Eat. And you can sleep in my — in my — “ He gestured vaguely at his bed while his face burned like a desert sun. “I’ll be back. I just — I’ll be back.”

He fled down the wagon steps, his stomach fretting into knots of excitement and apprehension at the prospect of traveling with Tae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be continuing this fic, but updates will be sporadic!  
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment! <3  
> [@ZavijahWrites](https://twitter.com/zavijahwrites)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

The right opportunity to tell the others about the half-starved stowaway never arose. The hours before dawn slipped away as Elliott paced, lost in a mental fog of arguments and counter-arguments he’d use in favor of Tae’s situation. He walked the quiet camp, back and forth, round and round, until his feet brought him to idle by the fire. He stared unseeing at the bed of coals while his thoughts wandered down one curious trail after another.

Who was Tae? Where had he come from? Why was he being hunted by Syndicate? Would he stay?

“Clean your face,” Ramya chided upon returning from her patrol. “Before you frighten the child.”

She meant Natalie, who they all treated like a naive, kid sister instead of the grown woman she was. Natalie had suffered at the hands of headhunters and it had left her both mentally and physically scarred. She wasn’t fragile, but she was sensitive, and they all treated her like a powder keg because, among the five of them, she was the most dangerous in terms of raw power. Her fuse was long, but once she went off, there would be nothing but craters left to mark the err of their ways.

By the time Elliott washed away the dried blood, the camp was awake and he was swept up in packing up their supplies. Breakfast was served cold; the leftovers of a wiry rabbit Elliott tore off a small piece to eat before wrapping up the rest and slipping it into the back of his wagon for Tae. Finding a moment to talk to his fellow magi became impossible in the flurry of tasks that followed. Soon enough Razz and Ma-Tazz, his wagon horses, were hitched and together they headed south.

“I’ll tell them tonight,” Elliott said to his horses. “They’ll be too tired to care much, right?”

If he had anything to explain at all. Tae could have sneaked out before they left. After they all stopped for lunch, Elliott waved for the others to go on ahead with the excuse he needed to use the nearby bushes in privacy. When they were out of sight, Elliott poked his head into the back of the wagon. Tae laid curled up in the bed, barely asleep, with a hand curled around the hilt of his dagger. Less feral, but still dangerous. Elliott gently rapped his knuckles against the sideboard to wake him.

Tae’s eyes snapped open, darting around the interior of the wagon in alarm before narrowing on Elliott.

Heart backpedaling, Elliott offered a quick smile and set a flask of water on the floor between them. “I told the others I’d catch up. We’ll be traveling until sunset so right now is the only time you’ll have to stretch your legs and — “ he jerked his thumb toward the bushes. “Take care of any personal business.” Pulling an apple from his satchel, Elliott cut it in two and offered half to Tae. When Tae didn’t budge, Elliott set it alongside the water. “I haven’t quite gotten around to telling them about you but uh, don’t you worry. I’m sure they’ll be fine with it — after they bite my head off.”

Over the years of talking to his horses and his spirit companions, Elliott was rather used to holding one-sided conversations. Tae’s silence didn’t detour him in the slightest. Through actions and gestures, Tae understood him well enough, or so Elliott assumed. He backed off and excused himself to a stand of trees to relieve his bladder. Tae did the same, some distance away, but was quick to crawl back into the wagon. A peek showed him curled up in the bed, asleep. Elliott let him be.

In the hours before sunset, Elliott deluded himself into believing he could smuggle Tae down to the border without anyone else knowing. A week of secrecy and half-portions seemed do-able. At least until Sheila took an interest in his wagon. Seated by the fire, Elliott paled as the wolf-beast raised up to sniff at the covering. She wasn’t growling, but her ears were perked, listening.

Ramya, attuned to her beast’s curiosity, shot Elliott a questioning look. She sidled closer and spoke through a grin of gritted teeth. “You _kept_ the cat?”

Elliott opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it close when Nox stalked past, heading directly toward the wagon under Sheila’s investigation. Elliott scrambled after him while his mouth fumbled for a suitable lie. “Do I have mice again? Ashes and rot, I need to stop leaving food under my bed.”

The words failed to detour Nox’s determined path. His foot came down on the bottom step and Elliott leapt forward. “Wait — what are you — wait, I can explain!” He grabbed Nox’s arm and immediately dropped to his knees, choking as Nox’s power flooded the air. Elliott coughed as he crawled forward. “Stop. Please.” His pulse fluttered, his vision blurred, and he was powerless to stop Nox from climbing into the wagon.

“Don’t — “ His throat burned with every sucking intake of air. “Don’t hurt him.”

The wagon shook violently. Elliott heard bodily thuds, the clatter of a metal on wood, and the choked coughing as Tae succumbed to the effects of Nox’s magic. Elliott stood over wobbly knees as Nox emerged, dragging a gasping Tae down the steps and toward the edge of the camp.

Power bled through the weave separating the ether from the mortal plane. Spirits rose from the ground like ghouls, faceless and feral. They loosely circled Nox, like a restless pack of wolves darting through the trees, hungry and ready to lunge at the first sign of weakness. Elliott’s eyes burned silver-blue while his essence was drawn thin throughout the throng of hive-minded spirits.

Renee caught him by the arm, grounding him, and he drew his mind back into his own body. One mind. One body. He blinked the fire from his eyes and the disorientation from his mind.

“Nox.” Her voice remained flat, a void of emotion, while her cold fingers dug into Elliott’s arm. Fights happened, but deliberately using powers against another mage, with intentions of hurting them, had become an unspoken taboo since the war. There were so few of them left. Killing each other over petty squabbles was a blow to them all.

“We have a rat,” Nox hissed and threw Tae on the ground between them.

Elliott pulled from Renee’s hold and stumbled to Tae’s side. Tae’s eyes were screwed shut with pain, his lips were blue, and his breaths rasped like Death’s nails over a coffin lid. Elliott took hold of either side of Tae’s face and met a feral resistance. Fingers clawed at his face and neck as Tae arched and fought to get away.

Elliott didn’t let go.

“It’s me, Elliott, you know me. I’m not going to hurt you. Calm down, please — and breathe. Just breathe.” Tae latched on to Elliott’s arms, but stopped fighting. After a pair of slower breaths, his eyes cracked open and Elliott couldn’t help but smile with delirious relief. He smoothed his thumbs along Tae’s cheeks and let out his own shaky exhale. “That’s better. You’ll be okay.”

“Looks like the cat's outta the bag, mate.” Ramya said with equal parts of amusement and sympathy.

Renee’s pale eyes cut between them. “Who is this, Elliott? And why was he in your wagon?”

The color had returned to Tae’s face and his breathing had leveled. Elliott absently brushed aside Tae’s dark hair, reassuring him, before rising to face his peers. “He just needs a ride to the border.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who is he?”

Nox scoffed, “Isn't it obvious? He’s the murderer the soldiers were seeking."

Elliott’s shoulders hackled and his eyes flashed in Nox’s direction. Several heated retorts knotted on his tongue. The Syndicate were nothing but liars and murderers and Elliott would rather die than willingly hand someone over to them like some lamb to slaughter.

“Elliott,” a note of disbelief wove into Renee’s tone. “What are you thinking? We can’t have him—”

“Just to the border! And I was thinking I was being a decent person, thank you very much!” His fingers curled into his palms. “You know where I stand on this, Renee.”

She considered him for a long moment. They’d fought together in the war, had struggled to survive in the years afterward, and she had been at his side when Syndicate soldiers swept through and picked off his friends and family one by one. He couldn’t just sit back and let it happen again.

Renee crossed her arms, not entirely swayed. “Is he a mage?”

“I — “ He didn’t know. Behind him, Tae had risen. He stood, his stance wide, and his gaze fixed on Nox. Elliott eased between the two, an arm stretched out to corral Tae behind him. “I don’t think he is? He didn’t use magic on me—”

“ _On you_ ,” Renee repeated with a rising note of incredulity.

Elliott’s posture slumped in a show of defeat. “He _may_ have tried to stab me — but it’s okay! It’s all okay!”

“He’s so dirty,” Natalie’s voice broke the tension. She’d crept forward, curious and naive, and was examining Tae’s clothes while hiding a smile behind her hand. “You should have given him some new clothes, Elliott.”

“I — “ Elliott blinked, his mind taking a moment to reroute his addled thoughts. “I guess it didn’t occur to me to — to do that.”

Renee intervened, her form blurring as — in the blink of an eye — she was suddenly beside Natalie, drawing her back with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Renee’s luminous eyes were on Tae as she spoke. “You need to leave.”

“No!” Elliott again slid between Tae and the others. “Shouldn’t we vote on this?”

Ramya barked with laughter. “I vote to keep Witt’s stray. It’s already spicing up this dull trip.”

“I also vote to keep him,” Elliott raised his hand.

Natalie smiled apologetically at Renee before lifting her own hand in favor of Tae’s staying.

“Absolutely not,” Nox said.

“Majority vote.” Elliott narrowed a look on Nox. “He stays.”

“He’s not a stray we can just keep, Elliott.” Renee bristled. “There are laws— if we get _caught_ — “

“Just to the border! That’s what, a week out? Natalie — “ Elliott had always been a fast talker, able to jerk a conversation in a series of u-turns that often dislodged people from their original trails of thoughts when they were presented with fresh absurdities. “Will you help Tae pick out some clothes from my trunk?”

“Of course!” Natalie stepped forward, but Tae leaned away from her extending hand. His eyes shot to Elliott, questioning and, perhaps, a touch annoyed. Elliott had only a moment to offer Tae a reassuring smile before Natalie whisked him away by the sleeve.

Renee’s eyes bulged with alarm. “Wait, Nat — “ but it was too late, she’d lost the fight. Her eyes flashed, white as bone. “Damn you, Elliott.” She left, trailing after Natalie like a dutiful guard dog.

Elliott sighed into the brief moment of respite.

“I’m going to hit the hay, mates.” Ramya stretched out her arms and winked at Elliott. “Stores are a bit bare, I’ll go hunting tomorrow. I’m sure Renee will want to go too.”

Why Ramya was siding with him, when all she ever did was try and kick him down, left Elliott more than a little baffled. Not wanting to ruin the unlikely of alliances, Elliott gave her a simple nod to show his understanding. Taking Renee out would give her space to decompress as well as give him time to figure out what the hell he was going to do in order to keep Tae safe. Elliott glanced side-long at Nox. The patrolling soldiers were not the only threat at hand.

“I’ll take first watch tonight,” Elliott stated loud enough for the others to hear.

The air visible wavered (on reflex Elliott held his breath) as Nox turned and stalked away. Once enough distance was between them, Elliott let the air rush out of him. It was going to be a long trip. Without factoring in stops for supplies and bad weather, the trek down to the border would take a little over a week. Not long in the grand scheme of things, but too long under the stress of hiding a wanted man. It’d be all their necks if he was discovered. Mage or not, having a sixth person traveling with them was a risk. Renee and Nox had good reasons for not wanting Tae to stay. Self-preservation was a trait they’d inherited from the war and the aftermath of, but gods above did Elliott hate the guilt that came with turning people away.

 _Just to the border_ , Elliott reminded himself and settled down next to the fire. A startled laughed flew from his lips as he was struck with the realization that he’d be spending the night there. He’d surrendered his pitiful lodgings to Tae without a second thought. Something he assumed Tae understood as he did not re-emerged from the wagon after Natalie and Renee had left him. The latter not without tossing a displeased look in Elliott’s direction before disappearing into her tent.

The night wore on, but no one came to relieve Elliott of his watch and he chose not to wake anyone. He piled wood onto the fire and, shortly thereafter, fell asleep. The chill of night woke him some time later. He shivered as he inspected the sad pile of dark coals. With some care he managed to revive it into half-decent flame by the time Ramya rose, already dressed and packed to head out.

Renee didn’t even acknowledge him when she got up and left with Ramya.

Elliott waited until the sun had detached itself from the horizon before letting his curiosity draw him toward his wagon. He rapped his knuckles against the side board and softly called, “Tae?”

Blankets rustled from within, followed by the dull thump of feet finding the floor. The wagon creaked and a moment later Tae poked his head out. The sight of him sent a warmth blooming through Elliott’s chest. He smiled, first at with the mere delight of seeing the man then, as the smile edged wider, it was because of the humorous way Tae’s bed tousled hair stuck up at odd angles.

“Can I come in and get some of my things?” Elliott asked, pointing at himself then at the wagon.

Tae nodded and ducked back inside. Elliott slowly exhaled while his heart tripped over itself in a new tap routine. After a few polite seconds, Elliott climbed the stairs. Tae sat cross-legged on the disheveled bed, eyes barely open and a yawn stretching out his jaw. He wore one of Elliott’s night shirts, the material loose and drooping around his leaner shape.

Elliott’s mouth was moving before he could catch the thought flitting through his head. “Aren’t you just the most adorable kitten I have ever seen.”

The teasing connotation was clear and Tae tiredly grunted in protest. It fed like kindle to the warmth building in Elliott’s chest. It rose into his cheeks and he turned to root through his chest for his shaving kit and a bowl. “You’re on your own for breakfast. Hope you still have that jerky you pocketed — yeah, I saw you filch it but it’s fine.” He pulled a fresh shirt from the mess of clothes and draped it over his shoulder. “The girls — Renee and Ramya — went hunting, so here’s hoping they bring back more than rabbits. I’m getting really sick of eating rabbit.”

He closed the chest, sat on it, and fiddled with the items in his hands while stealing glances at Tae’s sleepy face. “You’re not obla — bluh — _required_ to do any chores, but I think I should find you something to do around camp so maybe Renee will be less inclined to kick you out. That sound good?”

Tae rubbed at his eyes.

“Not getting any less cat-like,” Elliott mused while his gaze strayed, skimming over the gap in Tae’s borrowed shirt. It bared so much skin, the jut of his exposed collar bone drew Elliott’s attention before he could jerked it to the wagon covering. “So I will think on that and let you know — somehow. Good talk!”

Elliott exaggerated a nod which Tae mimicked to a lesser degree. With one last smile, Elliott left, and his cheerful guise dissolved into a fit of nerves. He filled the bowl with water, left it to warm by the fire, and took to pacing around the ring of rocks. Looking at Tae — _in that way_ — had to stop. No matter how eye catching he found Tae to be, such advances were — most often than not — unwelcome.

The sun inched higher and Elliott, still a mess of shameful thoughts (the smooth line of Tae’s neck to the hollow of his throat was an image that refused to leave his mind’s eye) took his things several strides outside of camp. A small tree served as a stand for his small mirror. He examined his beard in the reflection. It didn’t look terrible, at least not in his opinion. It wasn’t as luxurious or well-groomed as Nox’s beard, but it also wasn’t a ratted mess. A careful trim would suffice.

His fingers brushed over the healing cut on his cheek. It’d scar, joining the nick across his right eye and the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine,” he told his frowning reflection and the two spirits — silver-blue and wearing his face — that had risen up on either side of the tree trunk to gawk at him in mock horror. “I look — good. Right? Yes, of course I do.” He smiled at himself in the mirror, but it felt as wrong as it looked. The spirits exchanged worried glances. Elliott glowered at them. “Look, I’ll shave it down to here.” He traced a line under his cheekbones. “Then trim the rest. Okay?”

The spirits pointed in earnest over Elliott’s shoulder. He gave them a flat look. “I’m not falling for — “

Natalie giggled and Elliott pivoted to watch as she pulled on the long, billowy sleeve of the shirt Tae wore. Tae had put a vest over the shirt but, if the faint scowl he wore was anything to judge by, the sleeves were not to his liking. The pants were his own as nothing in Elliott’s chest was bound to fit his slender hips. He had cleaned his face, brushed back his ink black hair, and resembled little of the ragged stray Elliott had quarreled with two nights ago, or the sleepy kitten he’d glimpsed earlier.

The spirits were silent, but Elliott could feel them snickering. They hid toothy smiles behind transparent hands and Elliott flicked water at them until they fled into the field, tapering into fading blue ribbons. “It’s not like that,” he muttered at them. “He’s just — different.”

“Elliott!” Natalie called as she came over, hauling Tae along by the wrist. “Are these okay for Tae to wear?”

“Yup!”

“You didn’t even look,” She tutted.

Elliott withdrew a leather strop from his kit and looped it around a thin branch. The razor he examined for knicks before running the edge down the band. Only afterward, when he felt he had his thoughts firmly restrained, did he humor Natlie with a quick over-the-shoulder glance at where Tae stood at a distance, toying with the cuff of the loose sleeve. He looked like a bard about to perform, or an actor about to sweep onto a stage, and Elliott expected nothing less from his own wardrobe. The dark green vest didn’t look familiar, but considering how snug it fit around Tae, it must have become too small over the years and had migrated to the bottom of the trunk.

“He looks good, Nat.” Elliott ran the razor down the strop a couple of times before gesturing to her attire. “Are you going foraging today?”

Natalie held out the hem of the pocketed apron she wore over her faded blue dress. “We are — I want to find mushrooms.”

The razor paused against the leather. “Both of you?”

“ _Oui_.”

A thorn of jealousy worked into Elliott’s chest. Natalie was a sweet girl, impossible to refuse, and the fact that she could tow Tae along without him putting up a fuss was unfair. Elliott had no rights to Tae’s company, he knew, but he felt somehow robbed of it all the same. The razor passed down the strop in a series of quick, alternating strokes. Elliott tested the edge with the pad of his thumb and chided Natalie ever so softly, “Renee won’t like that.”

Natalie’s lips pursed. “We won’t go far.”

Elliott looked from Natalie’s pout to Tae’s disinterested yet watchful gaze. “If anything happens to her.” He pointed to Natalie, then to Tae. “Renee will kill you if Nox doesn’t get there first.” To make the message loud and clear, Elliott drew the razor through the air in front of his own throat and Tae’s eyes narrowed. “Then they’ll kill me for allowing it to happen. So — don’t do anything stupid.”

“We won’t go far,” Natalie repeated and snatched Tae’s hand. Another thorn of jealousy barbed into Elliott’s heart. He focused on his own task, his ears burning with the sounds of their departing strides pushing through the field grass.

Elliott glared at himself in the small mirror. “Don’t get any ideas.”

He worked his shaving soap into a lather and spread it over his cheeks while his eyes continuously strayed from the mirror to where Natalie and Tae walked toward the far side of the field; their progress slowed by Natalie’s animated chatter. Elliott couldn’t hear her, but he watched, keen to keep tabs on them while he shaved down his beard to a more respectable line. When he was satisfied that both sides were even, he bent over the bowl of lukewarm water and washed away the soap. An empty field greeted him after he stood and dried off his face.

Power shot through him like tendrils of forked lighting and his eyes flashed with heat. In the mirror they glinted silver-blue. The spirits popped up, alarmed and already fanned in a grand search for his missing companions. Elliott struggled to throttle back the spilling magic. “It’s fine — they’re fine. Stop doing that or someone is going to notice.”

The spirits were a collective mind of energy, given conscious thought through their connection with him. Without an anchor, they were a whimsical wind, blowing wherever they desire without an inkling of right or wrong. When one spirit pointed, the message rippled through the others, and soon all of them were waving and gesturing, directing his attention to where Natalie and Tae appeared from behind a cluster of trees.

“See?” Elliott exhaled and swiped his hand through the air, putting a touch of power into the motion to send the spirits tumbling back into the ether. Such slips of magic were exactly why he couldn’t pass as normal. Even when he wore the identifying markers of a mage, a flare of magic amid the wrong kind of crowd would end poorly for him. As much as he yearned to have a normal life — a piece of land, a family to love — he’d long ago abandoned such fanstificul dreams during the war.

Elliott packed up his shaving kit, changed into a fresh shirt, and distracted himself by feeding sticks into the fire. As he stood and considered the dwindling pile of firewood, an axe cleaved the air beside him and sank into the log nearest to his boot. Elliott leapt aside, hands raised and eyes glowing, and immediately dropped the defensive stance upon meeting Nox’s silent glare.

“Uh, hey— “ Elliott started, but clenched his jaws when Nox’s eyes flashed green with ire. His fingers curled around the handle of the axe as his displeasure shifted to where Natalie and Tae were, then he pushed the axe toward Elliott.

Elliott fumbled to catch the handle. “Y-yeah, I’ll uh, get some more wood.”

To Elliott’s immense relief, Nox walked away without another word. A hard jerk freed the axe from the log. Sunlight glimmered along its freshly honed edge and a threat hung in the air like the acrid smell of Nox’s magic. Elliott gazed out into the field as he shouldered the axe. The temporary truce which allowed Tae to stay with them would not last. With a sigh sitting heavy in his chest, Elliott harnessed up Razz, the calmer mare of his wagon pair, and led her to a copse of trees not far from where he’d last seen Natalie and Tae.

A fallen tree laid apart from the thicket and Elliott left Razz to idly graze while he stripped the log of branches. He fastened straps around it, laid out drag ropes, then gathered all the loose branches into a pile. All the while he kept tabs on the pair, knowing sooner or later Natalie would be drawn to him, eager to show off her success.

“Elliott!” Natalie called as she bounded over, waving a handful of small carrots over her head. “Look!”

The carrots were set on the log, followed by several other items Natalie pulled from her apron. Wild onions and several herbs Elliott knew by smell rather than their names. But there were only a handful of mushrooms that she’d set out to find. A fact he was about to remark on if not for her beaming smile and excited gesture to Tae.

“And Tae found eggs!” she chirped.

Elliott’s gaze lifted from Natalie’s spoils to the eggs being cradled in Tae’s folded arms.

“Tae is an excellent forager.” Natalie stated with a proud nod.

Chuckling, Elliott presumed that someone forced to live off the land, alone, for gods know how long, would have a knack for scavenging. Either an able thief, or a learned forager. Elliott teased a grin at Tae. “I bet he is.”

Tae fumbled his armful and scrambled to catch the eggs. Natalie giggled, Tae blushed, and Elliott looked away from them as his mood darkened. He crouched to lash together some of the branches.

“I will boil the eggs,” Natalie said as she re-packed her apron. “They will make a nice treat for lunch.”

The rumble of Elliott’s stomach agreed. As she moved away, Tae a step behind her lead, Elliott shot to his feet with the concern of Nox’s threat worrying at the back of his mind. “Tae-joon?”

Tae slowed and quietly regarded him.

Elliott pointed at him, himself, then at the strapped log. “I could use some help.”

While Tae considered the log, Natalie swept forward to pluck the eggs from his arms and stash them carefully into her apron. “I will start on lunch,” she said. “Maybe Renee and Ramya will be back by then.”

She waved at them, Elliott nodded to her and waited until she was out of ear shot before offering Tae a fleeting smile. “I don’t really need help, but I think it’d be best if you and Nox stayed away from each other for the time being.” He tossed a band of belted leather to Tae, who caught it and raised a questioning brow. Elliott explained it away by pointing at the bundled branches.

Tae surveyed the ground around them, then began putting together his own stack.

“We used to have chickens,” Elliott talked as he began another bundle. “But one got crushed by the horses. Another got picked off by a hawk. We ended up eating the others last winter — we ran out of food for them and one of the hens had a foot freeze off. It was more merciful to eat them, I guess. Anyway — I miss having eggs to eat.”

In the field around them, spirits had risen translucent under the sun. Their ghostly forms mirrored their work, searching through the grass for sticks. One spirit lifted a prize over its head, some imaginary stick of great worth, and the other spirits chased after it. Tae watched them, alarmingly still, as the ghosts dashed off and tumbled out of sight.

“They’re harmless,” Elliott waved dismissively. “They get bored and start looking for ways to start trouble. Don’t pay them any mind.”

Slowly, Tae added another branch to his bundle while his gaze warily swept the field, perhaps searching for more of the silent spirits. When he stood, the sun caught on the necklaces that had wiggled free of the loose shirt. The glitter of gemstones set in metal drew Elliott’s eye and he found himself staring at an ornate ring befitting a noble rather than a stowaway. There were more necklaces, all fit with small baubles and charms and Elliott couldn’t remember seeing them that morning — or, he admonished himself, he’d been entirely distracted by the sight of so much skin he hadn’t registered the tangle of necklaces Tae wore.

Tae caught him looking and, upon following Elliott’s stare, quickly tucked away the trinkets.

Curious, but knowing his questions would go unanswered, Elliott attempted to play the whole thing off as if he hadn’t even noticed the necklaces. “You look nice — the shirt, that is. And the vest. They look nice — on you.” Elliott could feel his face growing hotter with each foolish syllable. “What I mean to say is they look a lot better on you than me so you can keep them.”

Angry at himself, Elliott set down his bundle, took up the drag ropes, and busied himself with connecting them with Razz’s chest harness. The mare nodded her head, eager to work, and pawed at the ground. Tae took it upon himself to fasten all the bundles together and carry them on his back. As he came up alongside Razz, eyes on Elliott’s working hands, she sniffed at him — then sent him sprawling to the ground with a hardy shove of her head.

“Razz! What in the blazes— “ Elliott pulled her head away from where she’d bent to nip at Tae’s stomach. He held her head away by the bridle and took in Tae’s stunned expression. “I’m so sorry — she’s normally so nice! Are you okay?”

Razz reached to nibble at Tae again and Elliott jerked her head up. “Stop that!”

The surprise faded from Tae’s face, replaced with a guilty smile and a soft chuckle. From his vest pocket he retrieved a small strawberry. Razz, upon seeing it, pulled free of Elliott’s grip and eagerily gobbled up the offered treat. Elliott scoffed, nudged her head aside, and grabbed Tae’s emptied hand to haul him upright.

“Strawberries are her favorite,” he said while brushing the dirt and grass from the back of Tae’s shoulders. “She must have smelled them in your pocket. Were you hiding them from Natalie to snack on later?”

Tae fed Razz a second strawberry, smiling, and Elliott became caught at the sight of such a relaxed expression. It was an absent-minded smile, one Tae wore as he pet Razz’s neck, clearly bearing no ill feelings toward the horse. Soft, peaceful, and so unlike the frenzied stray Elliott had found hiding in his wagon. Elliott’s fingers toyed the leather lead latched to Razz’s bridle. The sunlight cast a warm glow over Tae’s face, creating an angelic haze, and Elliott was tormented with the urge to touch him.

Tae met his gaze, held it, and Elliott inwardly flailed at his own inability to look away. His heart thumped heavily, feeling several sizes too large in the tightness of his chest. He parted his lips, intending to say something to break the spell, but only succeeded in drawing in a short breath. Tae was lovely to look at, absolutely beautiful, and Elliott couldn’t quite shake off the cloying infatuation.

Not until an impish look flashed across Tae’s features. Elliott blinked and tuned back into reality just as a strawberry was shoved into his gaping mouth. Elliott grunted, surprised, but could hardly think beyond the lingering press of Tae’s fingers against his lips. The touch slid back, along Elliott’s freshly trimmed beard, and Elliott’s thoughts spun with a dizzying fervor. Rendered speechless, Elliott did little but stare as Tae, smirking mischievously, gave his cheek an affectionate pat like he’d done to Razz.

The hand retracted, the spell broke, and Elliott gathered what little of his wits remained. He bit off half of the strawberry and fed the stemmed end to Razz. Tae looked smug and Elliott couldn’t think of a joke to save his life. His cheeks were hot and the gravity of self-consciousness kept pulling his gaze downward. The phantom press of Tae’s fingers tingled against his lips. It didn’t mean anything — not anything he wanted it to mean.

Deciding it best to move before he made a fool of himself, Elliott tugged at Razz’s bridle, urging her forward. The log was nothing compared to the wagon she pulled and, after digging in her hooves, she dislodged the log from its earthly rest. It slid easily across the grass. Tae followed alongside, quiet as always, but wearing the last curl of a smug smile.

Words continued to elude Elliott as they arrived back at camp. He unhooked Razz, handed her lead to Tae, and pointed to where the other horses were grazing in a loose pen. Tae left his burden of branches by the log and gave Elliott an understanding nod. Elliott watched him go, feeling the painful ache pulse in his chest. A fire spread through his veins, yearning, and Elliott focused the burn into the work at hand. His world whittled down the axe in his hands in the strain in his muscles as he turned the log into quartered firewood.

The sun was dipping toward the horizon by the time Renee and Ramya returned and Elliott finished stacking the last of the wood into an orderly pile. As he covered the wood with a stretch of oil canvas, Ramya prowled closer. “Blimey,” she teased as she sat on the chopping block, slung a limp pheasant over her knee, and began plucking its feathers. “It’s nice to see you actually do some work around here for a change.”

With arms feeling like jelly and a stomach cramping from hunger, Elliott barely mustered a shrug in regards to the jab. Instead of a retort, his gaze fell to the bird in her hands. “Is that for dinner?”

“For you?” Her brow inched upward as her grin spread wider. “I suppose you’ve earned a nibble or two.”

His stomach grumbled and Elliott shuffled off to fill it with water before slumping down near the fire. Renee was crouched nearby, arranging the coals and wood to support a cooking fire. She took a bite from the boiled egg she held, one of the several Natalie had prepared, and Elliott groaned wistfully at the mere sight of it.

Without even looking, Renee held the rest of the egg out to him. He sprang on the offer and wolfed it down.

“You let him go out alone with Natalie?” She asked.

Elliott nearly choked on his mouthful and he struggled to swallow it down as well as talk around it. “Wa’fine. Nuffin happ’n.”

The skin tightened around the corners of Renee’s mouth, but her narrowing eyes remained on the fire. “That’s not the point.”

After a rough gulp, Elliott rallied himself to argue. “He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t know that — he needs to go.”

“Renee,” he whined. “No.”

Her pale eyes cut toward him, simmering with annoyance. “If we get caught with him, it’ll be all our heads.”

“Just to the border, Renee. Please?”

“Why him?”

The question made Elliott’s stomach swoop and he dropped his gaze to the glowing coals. “I’d do the same for anyone that needs help.”

“You shaved.”

Elliott cupped his beard, wondering why that, of all things, had caught Renee’s attention. “Ramya mentioned it was looking a bit rough.” In less kind words, of course. “Why, did you like how it looked before? Don’t worry. It’ll grow back.”

“Elliott.” Her voice was soft but needled with warning. “Don’t get attached.”

“To my beard?”

She shot him an unamused look and Elliott bit back the rest of his retorts. He knew, as well as she knew, that he had cleaned up in a foolish attempt to garner Tae’s favor. Even if he saw the way Natalie looked at Tae, how she had already grown fond of him, and how easily Tae trusted her in return. Yet Elliott deluded himself into thinking _maybe_ —

“He has to go,” Renee said.

Elliott frowned, then finally allowed himself a glance at where Natalie had brought out one of her wooden game boards and was in the process of teaching Tae how to play a game with black and white stones. “Can’t we get rid of Nox instead?”

“You know that’s not how it works.” She prodded the coals once more before reaching for the roasting spit. “Don’t get attached.”

“I’m not attached,” Elliott muttered even while his heart burned upon glimpsing the way Natalie casually touched Tae’s arm. Elliott knew better, after his last attempt at a romantic liaison had gone horribly wrong, but he had the terrible habit of letting his heart lead him into troubled waters and Tae was certainly a sea’s worth of dark, lashing waters. Yet the mystery of it only drew Elliott in deeper.

Elliott rolled his aching shoulders, grimaced, and shifted his gaze back to Renee. “Can we start training again?”

The question startled a gawk from Renee. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“But you haven’t wanted to do that since— “

“I know,” he cut in, not wanting to reflect on the chain of events leading to him shying away from fighting. He rubbed at his sore muscles. “I’m just starting to feel a bit slow is all.”

She arched a brow, but withheld any comments about him being out of shape. “Alright. Tomorrow morning.”

“O-oh,” Elliott stammered. “That soon?”

“There’s a town nearby, Nox and Natalie are going to go trade for supplies tomorrow. We’ll have all day to train.”

“All day,” Elliott echoed with dismay, doubting he’d be able to lift his arms tomorrow. Regardless, he gave her a watery smile and was glad to leave the subject of his growing attachment to Tae behind them. “Sounds great. So great, in fact, that I’m going to go ask Natalie to get me some wine that I can drink tomorrow when I regret this decision.”

With a groan, he clambered to his feet and crossed the camp to plop himself next to Natalie’s game board.

“Do you want to play, Elliott?” Natalie asked.

He eyed the black and white stones with apprehension. “Na-uh. I learned my lesson the first twenty times you kicked my ass at this game.”

“You have to practice if you want to get better.”

“Just admit it, you like kicking my ass.”

She grinned. “That would be a very unlady-like thing to say, so I will not.”

The game continued for a moment, a flurry of exchanges that ended with Natalie’s white pieces capturing several of Tae’s black ones. Tae swore, in the same language Elliott had heard in the forest. Foreign, but given the context, Elliott surmised their general, vexed meaning. Elliott cleared his throat and forced his gaze to Natalie. “I heard you were going to town tomorrow. Can you pick up some things for me?”

While Tae considered the board, rolling a stone between his fingers, Natalie turned her blue eyes onto him. “Of course — more wine?”

“Well, yeah, but — “ Elliott scratched at his neck, embarrassed to know his bad habits were not all that well concealed. “I also need some new needles and some fabrics — to mend my robe.”

“Must you?” Natalie wrinkled her nose. “I believe it is time to let it go, don’t you?”

“Please?” It’d been his father’s robe, the last thing his mother had made with her own hands. The only worth it had was an irreplaceable sentimentality. “Anything close to the same color.”

Natalie sighed softly, the small puff of air heavy with pity. “If you must—”

“I must!”

“Anything else?”

Elliott gently poked Tae’s elbow. Earning Tae’s curious attention brightened Elliott’s mood and he relished the dawning warmth it sent easing through his sore body. He smiled. “Not unless Tae wants something. I reckon he might have a sweet tooth. What do you say, Tae?” Do you — “ Elliott raised his brows as he pointed at Tae then made a grabbing motion with both hands. “Want… ah, blazes, I don’t know how to say ‘candy’.”

A crease formed between Natalie’s brows. “Why do you talk to him like that?”

Elliott huffed, “Because how else am I going to get him to understand?”

Her puzzlement swiveled to Tae.

A thread of unease knitted through and around Elliott’s ribs as Tae glanced between them, barely meeting Elliott’s eyes before dropping to the game board. “No,” Tae said while closing his fingers around the small, black stone. “I do not want anything from town.”

Elliott laughed, once, in disbelief, while devastation gutted through him. His thoughts windmilled, perched over a dark abyss without a hand hold in sight. The accent clinging to Tae’s words did not take away from the glaringly obvious fact that he not only spoke common, but understood it — perfectly. From the very beginning he had — he’d played Elliott for a fool.

“Right,” Elliott heard himself say when he felt so very disconnected from the moment. “That settles that.”

Natalie was still giving him an odd look. “Elliott, your eyes…”

“Just tired,” he said, closing them. He rose to his feet, waved his hand in a half-hearted farewell, and retreated as calmly as he could while falling to pieces. His thoughts spun and spun, tumbling down and down. Why was he such an idiot? Destined to lose no matter where he placed his chips. People said he was lucky to survive the war, but didn’t they know, to be left alive was an awful fate. Every day served to remind him of all those he’d lost and how much more pain and humiliation life still had in store for him.

Elliott let out a shaky breath and the interior of his wagon came into focus. Not his space anymore. He’d given it up to Tae. Tae, who didn’t owe him anything because Elliott had done it out of kindness. And yet — _and yet_ — a bitterness churned in Elliott’s gut. He’d stuck out his neck for Tae, spared him from Syndicate’s wrath, Sheila’s teeth, and Nox’s ire. Renee wanted Tae gone, yet Elliott had fought for him to stay. He didn’t expect anything in return — he didn’t! — but learning Tae didn’t want to bother _talking_ to him just…

It hurt.

Elliott grabbed his bedroll, blanket, and stepped down from the wagon. Last night he’d slept by the fire and while he assumed the girls would allow him to bunk with them for a night, he didn’t want to be around anyone. His stomach complained about the smells of cooking meat, but Elliott couldn’t bear to return to the fire. Sleep would dull the sharp pain ticking against his ribs, or so he hoped. Tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow he’d find the willpower to keep on, like always.

There was enough space under the wagon for him to comfortably set up his bedroll. Elliott tucked his blanket around himself and did his best to think of anything and everything unrelated to Tae. The stars were starting to peek above the darkening horizon. The bright tip of The Seraph’s Wings pointed south. Fall was nipping at the land and they needed to be somewhere warm before winter briskly settled in. Their wagons were barely able to handle a heavy rain, let alone a snow. Which reminded him, he needed to take a day to oil the covering before the next storm ruined all his possessions…

Silver-blue motes floated through the air around him, winking in and out in a secret language only fireflies knew. They were drawn to his loneliness. Elliott turned away and pushed the specks back into the ether before they could coalesce into half-forgotten faces. It pained him to keep shoving them away. While the spirits didn’t remember who they were, he did. Friends, foes, family — all stripped of their mortality and sentience by his power. Some were accidental, torn free while in the heat of battle. Others he’d taken on purpose, because he couldn’t bring himself to let them go. Robbed of an afterlife, they were stuck with him as a constant reminder of his folly.

Elliott wasn’t aware of drifting off to sleep, but he snapped awake at the sound of someone calling his name. He bolted upright and smacked his head off the bottom of the wagon. He fell back, clutching at his brow. “Fuck — who — what is it? Do we need to go?”

“No,” came the sound of Tae’s soft voice.

Ice trickled down Elliott’s spine. He unfurled his arms and peeked at what little he could see under the wane moonlight. The banked fire provided a warm, if distant, glow, which gave Tae’s face the barest blush of life amid all the shadows of gray-blue. He peered at Elliott from where he was crouched next to the wagon, one hand against the wheel for support.

Elliott sighed, not wanting to revisit the twisted knot in his chest. “What do you want?”

For a long moment, Tae kept his silence and eyed Elliott’s tangle of blankets with a frown. “Is this where you are sleeping?”

“No, I just thought it’d be fun to lay under here and close my eyes.”

Tae’s frown deepened. “Where did you sleep last night?”

Elliott glowered up at the wood. “Why are you here?”

The grass rustled as Tae knelt to better offer a small bundle of wrapped cloth. Curious, Elliott shuffled closer. He rested on one elbow while opening the palm-sized gift. The smell of cooked meat reached his nose before he uncovered the single pheasant breast inside. Elliott’s stomach rumbled with delight. His mouth watered and only Tae’s lingering presence kept him from scarfing it down.

“Nat send you with this?” Elliott asked.

“No.”

“Renee?”

“Just me, Elliott.”

The sound of his name from Tae’s lips sent goosebumps racing across his nape. He tore a small piece off the breast, stuck it in his mouth, and hummed in appreciation of the taste. So much better than rabbit. Elliott crawled out from under the wagon and sat on the grass, back to the wheel, and enjoyed a second bite. Tae remained, his expression stiff with neutrality while his fingers betrayed his nerves, pulling and picking at the tall strands of grass.

When it became clear Tae wasn’t going to break the silence, Elliott chipped at it. “So, you speak common.”

“Yes.”

“Still not very chatty though.”

The barest of smiles tugged at Tae’s features. “No.”

Elliott chewed while Tae knotted grass stalks together. A hope stirred in Elliott’s chest, fuzzy and arching against his heart like an affectionate cat. Ignoring it did little from detouring it from curling up and making itself at home. Elliott ate, in small bites, to hinder the urge to prod for more conversation.

“Elliott…” Tae searched the grass for the words. “It wasn’t personal. At the time, I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

“Trusted Nat well enough,” Elliott muttered.

The grass broke between Tae’s clenching hands. He sighed and tossed the strands aside. “That was _after_ — “

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Elliott snapped. “Because I’m pretty sure Natalie spoiled your ruse and I was never meant to know that all this time you could understand everything I was saying to you. I don’t — “ He pressed his lips together and shook his head in an attempt to expel the angry burst. “Thanks for the food — you don’t have to explain yourself.”

Tae lapsed back into silence, but didn’t budge. A cricket chirruped into the stillness and the night’s chill crept in.

“I will admit,” amusement curled with Tae’s quiet words when he finally spoke. “Watching you try to talk with your hands was… entertaining.”

Elliott scoffed.

“And I’ve found, in the past, when people assume I don’t understand them, they speak more honestly.”

“Clever little cat, aren’t you.” Elliott playfully narrowed his eyes while Tae tilted his head away in a caricature of innocence. The intrigue came back in spades and Elliott shook his head, frustrated with himself. He held his tongue, long enough to rake his memory for anything he might have said of consequence beyond his embarrassment. Most of it had been babble to fill in the quiet. Still, Tae looked rather pleased with whatever information he had gleaned from their interactions.

Elliott rolled his hand in a dismissive gesture. “So what did you learn about me?”

“Enough,” Tae toned with a smirk.

The nonchalant ruse Elliott had been vying to play hiccuped and his gaze clipped onto Tae. “That doesn’t sound good.”

There was a game at hand, Elliott could sense it, but the rules eluded him. He watched, clueless, as Tae stood, turned away, but cast a last, lingering glance over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Elliott.”

Rooted to the spot, Elliott watched Tae round the back of the wagon and disappear inside. A maddening urge told him to follow, but self-doubt begged him to remain put. As ‘come hither’ as the look had appeared, Elliott wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing was just what he wanted instead of what was actually there. Like how it had been out in the field, when it felt like Tae’s fingers had lingered a second too long.

Deciding he’d made fool enough of himself for one day, Elliott finished his meal in a brooding silence. He crawled back under the wagon afterward, overly conscious of every creak of the wagon above him. A pit opened up in his gut; a deep yearning for a more intimate connection. Yet Elliott did little but stare longingly at the wood until sleep took him.


	3. Chapter 3

The slender willow switch smacked against Elliot’s bicep and he peeled away, hissing with pain. He clamped a hand over the fresh hit and stamped his foot. When the stinging pain faded, he peeked under his fingers. No blood spotting through his sleeve. Yet. He shook out the arm and shot an irritated look at Renee. “Do you have to hit so hard?”

Renee twirled the stick between her fingers. “Pain’s a good teacher.”

Gritting his teeth, Elliot lunged. She side-stepped his jab, hooked his leading ankle with her own, and shoved him to the ground. As he gasped for air, she tapped the underside of his chin with her stick. “You’re projecting your moves.”

“You’re projecting,” Elliot shot back, wheezing.

She stepped back, he clambered to his feet, and they squared off again. He managed to nick her chest with the tip of his stick before she ducked around him and dug an elbow into his ribs. Elliot dropped to one knee, dazed at how far he’d fallen out of shape. “Are you — are you using your — your — _stuff_.”

Unlike him, Renee hadn’t been born a mage. She’d been caught in a burst of wild magic breaking through the weave separating the mortal plane from the ether. It had shattered her essence into several dimensions. For a time she ceased existing, too fractured to make up a whole. She had once described the experience to him as learning to walk again. Bit by bit, she had learned to hold herself together. And, with constant training, she mastered it. Renee’s speed had nothing to do with physical movements and everything to do with her ability to surpass the steady flow of time by side-stepping through another dimension.

She smirked at him.

“Mates,” Ramya said from where she lounged against Sheila. “I haven’t been keeping score but I think Renee is ahead by a thousand.”

Elliot glowered at her. “I don’t see you training.”

“Styles are too different.”

“Weak excuse.”

A feral grin stretched across her face. “I prefer Sheila to rip out their guts or tear off a limb before I put them out of their misery. Fancy a go at it?”

Sheila lifted her head and Elliot’s stomach dropped like a stone. “I’ll pass,” he mumbled.

“Maybe.” Renee’s pale eyes narrowed with thought as she tapped the stick against her calf. “It’ll be better if you practiced with someone closer to your skill level.”

“Excuse me?” Ramya asked, insulted.

While Elliot paled at the thought of fending against Sheila’s teeth, Renee brushed past him to head toward camp. He jogged after her. “You don’t really want me to train with her, do you?”

She ignored him, pausing only when they passed the wagons. “Tae-joon?”

From beside the fire, Tae stood. Embarrassment flashed hotly across Elliot’s face and he turned aside, searching for the nearest rock to crawl under. It was one thing to get his ass handed to him by Renee (they’d trained together for years), or even that Ramya had watched the whole spectacle (her constant barbs were almost a comfort), but Tae was too much of an unknown quantity.

“I want you to spar with Elliot,” Renee said and tossed him the stick.

Tae’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”

“Because apparently she thinks I’m too slow to train with her.” Elliot muttered while rubbing at his neck.

“You did look slow,” Tae said, his voice light and matter-of-fact while his eyes danced with amusement.

More heat flooded into Elliot’s face. His chest swelled as he sharply gestured at the clearing. “Let’s see how fast you are, kitty-kat.”

Another slip of tongue. Elliot bit down on it. His nerves were already on edge and they hadn’t even started sparring. Tae walked past him, twirling the stick in a motion all too much like the patronizing flick of a cat’s tail. Elliot steeled himself with a slow, deep breath before following after him.

The mid-day sun beat down his shoulders and was the sole reason Elliot blamed for how sweat-damp his collar felt as he squared up in front of Tae. Neither of them moved. Elliot’s fingers fastened and refastened around the hilt of his make-shift sword. Tae’s posture was lax, the switch held loosely in the hand by his thigh. An unfamiliar stance. Elliot slashed half-heartedly and was surprised when his stick met with Tae’s shoulder. He hadn’t even tried to move out of the way. Elliot tapped the shoulder again and frowned.

“Really? You’re not even going to try?” Elliot glanced at Renee who was watching, arms crossed and her expression blank. He regarded Ramya instead. “Are you counting this time? Look one — “ Tap. “Two, three.” Tap. Tap.

In between three and four, Tae struck. He caught Elliot’s wrist and slid closer. With a twist and a shove of hip, Elliot found himself lying flat on his back and blinking up at the sky. Cloudier than he remembered it; darkening on the horizon. Elliot drew in an experimental breath. He didn’t smell rain but, more importantly, the move hadn’t knocked the air from his lungs.

A shadow fell across him as Tae leaned over and tossed the stick aside. “I don’t do sword fights.”

Having been put in more humiliating positions in the past, the view from his current one was a vast improvement. Elliot grinned. “Good to know,” he said, then kicked out Tae’s foot, dropping him to the ground. Elliot rolled onto him, capturing his leg in a lock and pressing against his Achilles tendon. Tae squirmed to get free, but more pressure made him yield like warm putty.

“But you should have told me you wanted to grapple instead,” Elliot taunted.

“Let go,” Tae growled.

Elliot’s grin widened. “Tap out.”

Stubbornness firmed along Tae’s jaw. His fingers snaked along Elliot’s calf, seeking a pressure point. Elliot chuckled. Having grown up with three older brothers, he was well versed in the art of roughhousing. The military had only fine-tuned his techniques. He smacked Tae’s hand away and kept him prisoner until he began groping for the dropped stick.

Elliot released him, coiled, and sprang on him before he could do more than roll onto his knees. He went for an arm lock, but Tae slipped free. They broke apart. Tae was quick and precise, but — as Elliot learned — he needed time to plan and prepare his actions. Elliot simply dove in and improvised with experience. An aggressive offense kept Tae off-kilter enough for Elliot to eke out an advantage.

It didn’t take long before he had Tae pinned, bent over his knees and his arm twisted back and behind as a leverage bar. Adrenaline buzzed through Elliot’s veins. He pressed against the curve of Tae’s back to get a view on his face. “Ready to yield?”

Tae twisted against the hold. Not enough to escape, but enough to throw a handful of dirt into Elliot’s face.

“You little — “ Elliot sputtered out dirt while blindly pressing down on the hold, molding himself over Tae’s prone position to keep him from wriggling free. He rubbed his face against the back of Tae’s shoulder to clear the clout from his eyes. “Cheater.”

Tae huffed against the ground where his cheek was mushed. “Fights aren’t supposed to be fair.”

“You’re just as bad as the girls,” Elliot spat dirt to the side but could still taste it. “They always go straight for the groin shots.”

Tae tensed. It was a thoughtful coiling and Elliot mirrored the action in preparation of another escape attempt. What he didn’t expect was Tae’s free hand snaking between them, finding the inside of his thigh and sliding up toward —

“H-hey!” Elliot sprung away, nerves erupting like a crate of fireworks. Amid the chaos and heat, Elliot scrambled backwards, realizing too late that he’d responded exactly how Tae had expected. Free of the hold, Tae pounced. Elliot fell back, suddenly unsure where he could touch Tae. It didn’t matter if they’d been flush a moment ago. It’d been different then. Elliot’s desires had been neatly compartmentalized. Now every bit of Tae seemed off limits. Elliot laid on his back, his hands held aloft, as helpless as an overturned turtle.

Tae panted lightly as he sat, weary but victorious, on Elliot’s stomach. With flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and a loose grin of pleasure, Tae looked as if they had just finished having a vigorous roll in the hay. Elliot shut his eyes to the image and thrust the thought from his mind. He needed space. Quickly. “I yield.”

“ _Mwo?_ ” Tae straightened up, still seated on Elliot’s stomach, but no longer trying to keep him pinned.

Elliot risked a glance at him. “What?”

Tae smiled as he chuckled, the motion causing him to jiggle against Elliot’s stomach. Lightning struck again, forking and melting Elliot’s feeble resistors. His mind raced with unhelpful scenarios — pulling Tae down into a kiss; flipping their positions around to press him into the ground; grabbing his hips and sliding him down to sit where his heated blood was pooling. He needed Tae off but, too afraid to lay his hands on him, Elliot resorted to tightly balling his fists to the point his nails dug into the flesh of his palms.

The small pain wasn’t enough to win over the cord of need pulsing through him. With his mind, he reached for a loose thread in the spellweave and pulled. A trickle of power poured out, but Elliot kept pulling, hand over hand, until the cool rush of power over-rode the heat, until his concentration was solely on the art of molding the fluid energy into something more. He folded it, layer over layer, until —

Tae prodded at his cheek. “You’re really giving up?”

Elliot chuckled, letting his eyes crack open and reveal their silver-blue glow.

Alarm flashed across Tae’s previously smug expression. “What are you doing?”

“Cheating.” With a small gesture of fingers, Elliot sent the mishmash of power slamming into Tae. It knocked him off. Tae scrambled for footing while gaping at the human-like glob of swirling blue energy.

A pain blossomed behind Elliot’s eyes and he lost concentration on the magic. It fell apart, slivering off in pieces that wriggled in protest as it was sucked back into the ether.

“You said they were harmless!” Tae motioned at the fading spirits.

Elliot pinched at the bridge of his nose as he stood. “The ones you saw were.”

A familiar chuckle sounded from the sidelines. Elliot flinched, forgetting that they had an audience, and glanced in Ramya’s direction. She grinned at them. “Who knew you could do more than a puppet show for the kiddies.”

The insult hit hard — he liked doing the light shows for the town kids — but whatever rebuttal he had forming behind his teeth got lost to the pain that slid in behind his eye. Sharp, like a hot needle being driven into his eye socket. Warmth trickled over his lips. He tasted blood and his raised fingers came away red with it. His stomach pitched like a ship’s deck and — he must have lost balance because Tae was there, gripping him by the shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Elliot mumbled and slipped free — only to be caught by Renee’s hand around his elbow.

“Did you hit him?” Renee asked.

“No,” Tae answered.

Elliot made to pull away again, but froze at the press of Tae’s fingers along the side of his face. The touch was gentle, probing gently at the edges of Elliot’s eyes. Renee was there too, drawing Elliot’s chin down for a better look.

“Something wrong with my face?” Elliot joked while his heart fretted. “Please tell me I’m still beautiful.”

Tae chided him with words he didn’t know while Renee remained silent, her expression grave. “You used too much power,” she said.

Elliot pressed his fingers against the searing pain and stepped away. “That’s not even half of what I used to use.”

“You’re out of practice, Elliot.” Renee snapped. “And trying to shut it out has only made it worse.”

“It’s just a little burst,” he whined.

“Go lay down.”

Being belittled by Renee was much like her besting him in combat. He’d never thought twice of it, had grown accustomed to it over the years, but treating him like a child in front of Tae rubbed him the wrong way. Of course he was going to go lie down, or at least sit. She didn’t need to tell him to do it like she expected him to go running around camp while shooting off magic fountains.

“Yes, mother,” he muttered under his breath.

Her pale eyes narrowed and his gaze cut away to the road and the ominous clouds spilling over the mountains. Rain. Hopefully Natalie got back soon (preferably with his wine). Although, he thought while heading toward his wagon, he might still have a half-skin left. Elliot rubbed at his aching eye as climbed into the back of his wagon. One step in and he froze. Instead of his belongings strewn about like the nesting of a pack rat, clothes had been hung, other’s folded away. His trunk and packs had been organized to make more space. The bed was even made up.

Elliot slowly turned on the spot, taking it all in before, stepping over to his traveling trunk. He pulled it away from the sideboards. A blank space greeted him. No skin of wine and, worse, his opium stash was gone.

The wagon jostled as someone else climbed the trio of steps. Elliot shoved the trunk back into place and opened its lid as Tae slipped inside.

“Did you — did you — “ Elliot firmed his lips together as his heart skittered. He took a slow breath as he half-heartedly rooted through the clothes that had been folded into the trunk. “Did you move m-my mirror? I wanted to — to — “ His nerves proving too strong to overcome, Elliot wordlessly gestured at his face to convey his meaning.

Tae reached up to the narrow shelf by the bed and retrieved his small mirror.

“Thank you,” Elliot mumbled as he accepted it, eyes low. Tae had gone through his stuff. Was it a gesture of thanks? A cleanliness quirk? An excuse to snoop and steal? Elliot cast a nervous glance toward his trunk before regarding his reflection in the mirror. His right eye was unrecognizable. Blood had filled out the white space and his iris was speckled with glowing specs of silver-blue. “Wow,” he extended the mirror to take in more of his reflection.

“Does it hurt?” Tae asked.

Like a branding iron heated in a forge and being driven into his skull through his eye socket. Yeah, it hurt. Elliot pressed his fingers to the pain and shrugged dismissively at Tae’s question. “I’ll be fine.” Would have been better if he had something to drink. He smiled, but it felt watery, slipping from his face. “Give it a few days, I’ll be back to my handsome self.”

He set the mirror back on the shelf and moved to leave.

Tae shifted into his path, an open palm held out to halt Elliot’s exit. “Were you going to rest?”

“Uh,” Elliot uttered, ever so elegantly, as his nerves buzzed at the sudden proximity and the fact Tae… wanted him to stay? Tae wasn’t looking at him. His body was angled in the way, but his gaze was set firmly in the other direction. Elliot shuffled back a half-step, needing the space to clear his mind enough to cobble together the words. “My stuff is — it’s — my stuff — “ Unable to get his mouth to cooperate, Elliot pointed at the floor — or, his bed roll and blanket that were situated under the wagon.

In response, Tae made a small motion toward the bed.

Elliot swallowed against the heat crawling up his neck. “No, I couldn’t. It’s — I’ll be — _argh_.” He smacked a hand over his eye and it pulsed with fresh needles of pain. Instead of the bed, he sat on the trunk. “Something for the pain would be nice. Renee usually has something — she gets really bad headaches.”

It looked like Tae wanted to argue, but he drew back and nodded once. “I’ll see what I can find.”

As soon as Tae was gone, Elliot double checked behind his trunk. It was possible that Renee had found the stash when she had been with Natalie, helping Tae find clothes that would fit. It’d be like her to take it, either because she didn’t trust him or she needed it for her own pains. He hoped it was her, anyway.

Another stab of pain lanced through his skull, making his knees weak. He bled magic, unable to rein it back without making his head ignite with blinding pain. Spirits wriggled through, small and wispy, and explored the cleaned space. One reacted to his idle wonder, draping itself over the bed. Elliot inhaled, as if he could smell Tae on the pillow and —

He fled the space, cursing himself with every step. The next mage-friendly town they crossed, he was going to buy himself a room at a pillow house and spend the night getting all the aching need out of his system. He was just lonely — _and pathetic_. He crawled under the wagon and buried himself into his blanket as his head throbbed. He wanted his wine — what the blazes was taking Natalie and Nox so long to get back?

Amid the moments of self-pity and piercing pain, Elliot drifted into a restless slumber.

He woke to a hand gripping him by the shirt collar and the crash of thunder.

“Elliot!” Tae shouted, angry.

It’d been daylight when he’d laid down, but now there was only dark, lashing rain. The blanket covering him was sodden with it. His clothes clung to his skin, soaked and freezing. The ground was muck and sucked at his hands and knees as he obeyed the grip pulling him out from under the wagon. His thoughts tripped over themselves, confused and club-footed. His vision swam and he stumbled as Tae hauled him up the stairs and into the wagon.

“Wait.” Elliot pulled free of Tae’s grip. “What time is it? When — ? How — ?”

“ _Idiot_ ,” Tae snapped, the rest of his words dissolving into his native tongue but no less angry.

Elliot pinched at the bridge of his nose, the pain not as sharp as it was, but throbbing in response to Tae’s flaring temper. “I’m not — I just fell asleep, okay? Stop yelling at me.”

Tae continued to berate him with unknown words, gesturing angrily at the storm outside. To the bed. To Elliot as a whole. Elliot merely sighed and sat on his trunk. The storm rumbled over head and the blast of wind shook the wagon covering. Elliot shivered.

“What were you thinking?” Tae growled as he loomed over him.

Elliot dropped his hand, grit his teeth, and lifted his chin to regard Tae’s fury. “Everyone wanted me to rest, so I was resting.”

“Outside?” Tae’s tone implicated how stupid he found the answer.

“I — “ He glanced at the bed and felt helpless. “I didn’t want to — it wasn’t raining when I laid down.”

“You should have stayed in here.”

Elliot looked away and crossed his arms. “Yeah? And where would that put you?”

“You don’t need to worry about—”

Elliot threw his hands up. “And you don’t need to worry about me! I would have woken up — eventually — and dragged my sorry ass into Renee’s tent.”

“ _Elliot_ — ”

“I didn’t want to push you out,” Elliot cut in because he didn’t want to hear it. He covered his face with a hand, unable to meet Tae’s gaze any longer. His head hurt. His heart ached. And he was sick of everyone treating him like a child. “I didn’t — didn’t want to push you into Natalie’s arms, okay? Because — “ like everyone said, he was an idiot.

Tae shook his head, still angry though his expression twisted with varying levels of confusion and frustration.

 _Fine_. Elliot was done. No more what-ifs. No more cozy little fantasies. He seized Tae by the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. All firm lips and bitter with the taste of rain and mud. It was frustration, because Elliot was done. He wanted the rejection over with so he could move on and stop tormenting himself with silly daydreams.

He shoved Tae back, breaking the angry kiss. “ _That’s_ why, so —”

In the dark, the shimmer of magic was unmistakable. Tae’s eyes glowed, a pale blue-green and as soft as starlight. He was a mage — an angry mage about to unleash his fury in the form of magic.

_Ah fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little update to show I haven't forgotten about this fic! I've just been putting my focus on finishing a piece for a Secret Santa exchange. Hopefully when it's done, and if I'm not too pulled in by Cyberpunk, I will have more time to finish this AU <3


	4. Chapter 4

The wind howled and shook the wagon; dark spots had formed on the covering where the oil had worn through. Elliot stared at the forming sheen of water, waiting for the first drop to fall. It hung, bound by tension, much like how he continued to sit on the trunk, taut as a bowstring, waiting for the moment to snap. Tae hadn’t moved an inch. HIs eyes were closed, his face was contorted into a scowl, but no reckoning burst of magic had come forth to render Elliot into a pile of ash.

Elliot dug his fingers into the trunk lid as he fought off a shiver. He surveyed Tae from the corner of his eyes, hoping to get a read on the situation, and noted the equally sodden state of Tae’s clothes.

“Storm caught you too?” Elliot gently broached to escape the suffocating silence.

Tae’s eyes slitted opened into a glare. The glow from before was absent. Elliot searched for any sign of magic shimmer, but only found the glint of anger. It softened, bit by bit, but Tae’s motions remained sharp as he untied a pouch from his waist and thrust it at Elliot.

“Are we back on non-verbal terms?” Elliot braved a smile, but it barely quirked at the corners before falling apart. The silence persisted, collecting like vultures in the sky. Elliot pressed his lips together, vying to wait out whatever turmoil Tae was working through, but his efforts were as useful as shoring up a flooding river bank with loose sand. The words spilled out of him. “So, you’re a mage?”

Tae closed his eyes, again, and Elliot wondered why he hadn’t noticed the tic. He did it enough himself to know it hid the magic that often flared in tandem with emotions. Elliot sighed, “You don’t have to hide it. We’re all mages here. Well, not Renee really because she — “ he caught the tangent before it could take flight. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

In lieu of response, Tae opened the pouch and pulled out a twisted, black root. This he offered as an excuse to let the topic lie. Elliot glanced between the root and Tae’s stoic expression, puzzled. “Are we really not going to talk about — “

“Chew this,” Tae shoved the root into Elliot’s open mouth. “It will help with the pain.”

Earthy and bitter, Elliot started to spit it out but thought better of it. If Tae had gotten caught in the storm because he had gone out of his way to forage for it, the least he could do was adhere to the terse instructions. It could have been poison for all he knew, but at that point Elliot was willing to swallow down iron shavings if it meant clearing the awkwardness he’d created between them.

He chewed, grimacing the whole while. The root fought back like boiled leather and when the skin broke, it oozed over his tongue like caterpillar guts. He shot a horrified look up at Tae, but it earned him no form of mercy.

Tae waited until he swallowed before handing him a flask of water.

Grateful, Elliot took it and retreated to the back of the wagon where he proceeded to spit out the tatterned bits of root then washed the taste from his mouth. The storm raged on, dousing the last of the light from the horizon. It’d be a long, cold night. Tae lit a candle, unbuttoned his damp vest, only to pause and drop his hands upon catching Elliot’s stare.

“Sorry,” Elliot spun away to again face the wagon covering.

“It’s fine.” Tae muttered, though his tone said otherwise.

“I’m a better kisser than that,” Elliot blurted then flailed into action, undoing his own shirt buttons while his mouth sought to erase his words with even more words. “Not that I can prove it to you — unless you want me to — which you don’t. I mean, if you did, me stripping off my clothes right now would have a very different feel to it. Ha _ha_ …”

If lighting could just strike him down, right there, and leave him as nothing more than a smear of ash on the floorboards, he would be ever so thankful. He peeled off his wet shirt and reached for his robe. He pulled it on before stripping down underneath it. A shiver danced up his spine and he tucked the worn fabric around himself.

The quiet grew and distress gathered in his chest like swarming bees. He bit back on saying anything more, but it spilled through the holes in his spellweave instead. Silver-blue motes winked in and out around him, drifting lazily. Connecting with them, to push them back into the ether, sent pain lancing through his skull. Helpless to stop them, Elliot nervously chuckled and let go of the anxious words. “I was just frustrated. Not sexually — well, maybe a little — but I was trying to stop thinking about how I wanted to kiss you… by kissing you?”

Spoken out loud, it made absolutely no sense. Elliot winced and clenched his hands into the fabric of his robe. If he could just change the subject. If he could —

Tae’s footing stumbled and Elliot turned to find him crowded against the trunk by a translucent apparition. The spirit loomed over him, not quite touching, but Elliot could feel its mirrored yearning like an anchor hanging from his heart.

“What does it want?” Tae warded off the spirit with an outstretched hand.

Pulling at the tether made Elliot gasp as another hole opened in his spellweave, snapping like a whiplash on the inside of his skull. Blood dribbled from his nose. Elliot stemmed the flow with his fingers while a worry gnawed at his ribs like a starving rat. What had begun as a small burst was opening into something worse.

“It wants to kiss you,” he whispered, miserable with the truth of it.

“Why?”

Elliot grimaced while examining the blood staining his sleeve. “They’re reflections of me. What I want, they want. What I feel, they feel. It wants to kiss you because _I_ want to and… “ Another trickle of blood fell over his lips and he turned enough to give Tae a pained look. “I can’t stop it. I tried.”

Tae’s eyes widened with alarm. “Then don’t.”

The candle flame fluttered, sending shadows dancing along the walls. Elliot dabbed at his nose, staring at Tae while his mind whirled with a cacophony of confused thoughts. Tae was just concerned. It didn’t mean anything. Did it? He wouldn’t want that to happen. Would he? And, besides, the idea of letting the spirit act on such desires was — well, actually it was something of a curiosity.

Gradually the spirit became more opaque as it gathered motes of light like a black hole collecting stars.

“Will it hurt me?” Tae asked, his gaze fixed on the spirit.

“I don’t know.” He’d never been so completely out of control of his magic. “I don’t want to hurt you, so I can only assume it won’t hurt you either.”

Tae brushed tentative fingers against the spirit's shoulder. It wavered, unable to hold its form, but Elliot felt an echo of the contact through the binding tether. It crackled softly over his senses, subtle but still starling his heart into a canter. His pulse further jumped when Tae swooped his hand through the spirit’s core. It scattered, drifting apart like crystalized dandelion fluff.

Tae closed his fingers around one such mote, but when he opened his hand, it was gone.

“They feel like sparks,” Tae murmured while grasping at another.

The careless touches raised the hairs on the back of Elliot’s neck. He held his breath as Tae wove his hand through the floating motes. They were gathering again, like stars aligning to create a familiar constellation.

“Kids try catching them sometimes,” Elliot murmured. “They say it makes their fingers tingle.”

The rigid line of Tae’s shoulders smoothed into a relaxed curve and the drop in tension eased Elliot’s nerves and, in turn, stopped the nose bleed. In the distance, thunder rumbled while a temperamental wind sucked the warmth from the wagon. Tae shivered and, after a thoughtful pause, slid off of the vest and started on the ties of his shirt.

Elliot’s heart pattered excitedly and the motes flared like dying stars. He pinned his gaze to the floor and did his best to ignore the movements. The slide of fabric, the flash of skin. Pulse thudding, Elliot focused instead on using his discarded shirt to clean the blood from his face.

Tae drew in a soft, surprised breath and Elliot’s attention whipped back to him. The shirt was gone, revealing Tae’s lithe chest, and spirit was there, pressing soft kisses along his sternum. Given the way Tae’s breath hitched, the touches were connecting. Perhaps like the brush of a feather, or a static shock; Elliot watched, transfixed and wondering.

It would only take a quick swipe of hand to dislodge the spirit. Instead, so slowly Elliot was certain he was imagining it, Tae tilted his head to the side, granting the spirit unfettered access to his neck. The spirit obliged, to both the invitation and Elliot’s craving, and moved up the line of Tae’s throat.

Tae’s eyes pulsed softly with starlight blue and Elliot’s eyes burned silver in response.

Elliot’s gaze dipped lower and the spirit followed the motion, dotting static kisses to skin as it drifted lower and lower. Tae’s lids drooped and his breathing grew heavy. Elliot swallowed, his heartbeat having moved from pounding in his ears to instead throbbing in his groin.

It was impossible to look away; Elliot’s mouth fled for him. “Maybe we — we should t-talk about something? Something that doesn’t make me want to — to — “

“Ya,” Tae replied, his eyes unfocused and glowing.

The spirit took no heed to their words, adding its hands to the ghosting touches. Elliot slowly exhaled, warring to get his own body under control, but it was no use. His mind was a buzzing blank, unable to think beyond his narrowing focus on the echo he could feel in the tether. It made his lips tingle, made him want to —

The spirit knelt, lips skipping over Tae’s navel to press against the soft underside of his stomach.

“You should stop him,” Elliot said for the sake of decorum.

It took an inordinate amount of time before Tae responded. His arm shifted, but instead of shooing the spirit he reached for the front of his pants and hesitated over the top button. “I have to get changed,” Tae whispered, breathless.

As the candle flickered, tossing shadows over them, Elliot watched the finger cautiously circle the edges of the button. There was a question hidden between the statement and the actions, one Elliot was struggling to fully process. The spirit remained patient on its knees while Elliot forced his gaze up.

Tae’s starlight eyes burned blue-green behind the dark curtain of his bangs, full of restrained want, and the heat of the hungry look resonated within Elliot. It was as if the storm outside had moved into him. His heart pounded like the thunder and every nerve buzzed with the static energy of the roiling tempest. Power shot through him in tendrils like a web of lightning, and it fed into the spirit. The light of it congealed with Elliot’s desire to be the one on his knees, pressing hungry kisses to Tae’s skin.

Over the years, between men and women, Elliot always enjoyed being with other mages the most. Safe from persecution, the holds on magic loosened and power gently spilled. Elliot had been burned, shocked, and even recalled one breathless moment of having the air stolen from his lungs. In turn he had touched souls, warm and fluttering like a heart. It was such a dizzying thrill to meld magic while pressed together, skin to skin, heart to heart. Elliot wanted to share it with Tae.

Although, in all those past liaisons, Elliot had never acted through the conduit of a spirit, not even in his most debauched of moments with lust roaring through his veins. He’d always been the one to touch, to kiss. It felt taboo, somehow, to let the spirit play out his desires. Wrong, in a way, yet Elliot was intrigued to know how far things could progress. Perhaps Tae, too, was curious.

Curious and… pent-up.

The first button slid free, followed closely by the second, and the fabric sagged free, revealing the patch of dark hair trailing into the white of Tae’s under clothes. Elliot bit down on his lip to cage the aching sound building like a fire in his chest. The cold of the storm was forgotten as the thin robe he wore was suddenly too hot and confining.

Tae’s lids drooped, leaving only slivers of the glow to pierce the dim light of the wagon, and he slid a hand into his under clothes. Elliot breath stuck as he watched, captivated by the unmistakable motion of Tae slowly stroking himself. Hard. Aching. Elliot uttered a soft whine, wanting more. It burned through him, hot and electric, and —

It snapped inside of him like a taut rope bridge breaking under his weight. So focused on the spirit, channeling power into it with the all-consuming need to touch, he hadn’t realized the burn in him was something other than the warm coil of arousal. He wasn’t just bleeding magic, he was exsanguinating himself. The threshold had been crossed, and through the bubbling desire came the serrated edge of pain.

Elliot dropped to his knees, clutching at his chest as his delirious heart tap-danced off beat.

Blood streamed from his ears, from his nose, and when his stomach upturned itself onto the boards, there was more blood than vomit. Tae was shouting his name, pulling him by the shoulders, but Elliot couldn’t focus beyond the dark hole opening up inside of him. His vision was tunneling but he caught a glimpse of Tae’s frightened, glowing eyes before falling into darkness.

///

“What the fuck did you do?” Renee _snarled_.

Elliot couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her lose her cool. She got irritated (mostly at him), and might make a scathing comment here and there (again, mostly at him), but she rarely sounded like she was on the cusp of ripping off someone’s head. The loss of control meant she’d have trouble keeping herself anchored in one dimension. She’d fracture and skip through time. Knowing this, Elliot reached for her, wanting to calm her down, but found he couldn’t move his arm any further than a feeble twitch.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tae shouted back, another voice Elliot wasn’t accustomed to hearing so emotional.

His eyelids were stuck, as if a spider had cocooned its webbing over them, and he fought to open them. Three blurry forms crowded the inside of his wagon, more shadows than people in the flickering light of the single candle. Ramya was closest to him, this he noted more by smell than sight; the rain outside had only intensified the smell of wet fur that clung to her.

The longer Elliot gazed at her, the more in focus she became. Her teeth were bared in a snarl as she glared at the others. Renee and Tae were at the back of the wagon, facing each other with burning eyes. Tae wasn’t even bothering to hide the tell-tale flare of magic. He was shirtless and drenched, his dark hair plastered to the sides of his face.

 _Like a drowned cat_ , Elliot thought while huffing weakly with a laugh.

“Leave,” Renee seethed.

“ _No._ ” Tae matched her fiery tone with ice. “He needs help. I know someone who — “

“Give me _one_ good reason why we should trust you,” Renee bit, advancing on Tae, her petite frame blurring at the edges. “You’ve done nothing but lie to us.”

“I — “ The muscle in Tae’s jaw flexed. “You can trust me.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Tae,” Elliot meant to say but what came out was a strained wheeze.

Ramya’s attention swung to him, brows raised like her wolf’s listening ears. Tae noticed the shift and met with Elliot’s gaze. The anger and frustration pinching his features smoothed with relief then lined with worry. He reached for him, only to be shoved back and held in place by the tip of Renee’s dagger.

 _No!_ Elliot fought to intervene. Power burned through him, slithering like a snake with razor sharp scales, and he gasped at the pain of it.

Ramya’s eyes flashed, feral and gold, and she growled at the quarrel behind her. “Knock it off you bloody idiots. Can’t you see you’re making it worse?”

Three sets of glowing eyes regarded him. Their palpable concern made him want to joke about there being something stuck in his beard, instead the world went dark as his spine bowed and he began convulsing.

///

Elliot shivered and pressed into the warmth beside him. Coarse fur tickled at his nose. Too weary to turn away from the irritation, Elliot cracked open his eyes. A fire burned nearby, casting back the night’s shadows. The air smelled crisp, fresh from the recent rain. Smoke curled through the stand of trees, creating a lofty haze. No wagons, no tents, no gentle crunch of grazing horses.

Elliot wiggled his fingers through the furry mass he was leaning against, stopping when a pair of pointed ears perked up in response. Sheila turned enough to regard him with a golden eye. Fear should have been Elliot’s key response, but instead he stared back at the impassive wolf and muttered, “You smell.”

“You’re no flower yourself, mate.” Ramya crouched next to him and pulled him upright, putting his back against a wide trunk. She grabbed his chin and turned his face side to side before letting go. As he opened his mouth to speak, she shoved something gelatinous into his mouth. Some thickened stock, he realized as it melted on his tongue. He struggled to swallow it down.

He tried looking around, but only succeeded in lolling his head back against the tree. The fire popped, sending shadows dancing along the small camp. An ache seeped from his bones. He shivered and drifted toward the nothing of sleep, but confusion needled at him, keeping him awake.

“Where…. “ As soon as the worry manifested into words, Elliot felt the raw, blistering power of the ether spilling through the holes of his spellweave.

“Don’t fret,” Ramya said as she tucked the loosened blanket around his legs and torso. “We’re taking a trip. Just you, me, Sheila, and your stray.”

The running joke eased a portion of the rising distress and Elliot smiled at her for it.

“Don’t get any ideas.” She fed him more of the stock. “I’m only coming along because I’m bored.”

It was bait, an offer to bicker as they so often did, but Elliot couldn’t muster the energy to act on it. Her smirk faded. She pressed her wrist to his brow and frowned. Elliot saw the concern buoying in her eyes in sreaks of gold. She shook it off and puffed out an irritated breath. “Listen, Witt, if you don’t get better soon, I’m going to let Sheila chew off your legs because you’re too damn heavy to be lugging around.”

“He’s awake?” Tae’s voice broke in and he appeared a second later, kneeling beside Elliot.

Ramya caught Tae’s shoulder and eased him back. They shared a look, Ramya’s scolding while Tae’s dropped in submission. Tae nodded to the unspoken warning. Elliot watched them, but it was like watching an exchange through the pane of a dust-caked window; the sounds and movements reduced to muffles and blurs.

It came back into focus when Tae cupped the back of his neck while pressing a cup to his lips. “Drink. It’ll help.”

Elliot did, but only managed a few sips before the taste registered and he sputtered in protest to the bitter tang. He coughed all while Tae held him upright. “Tastes funny,” Elliot mumbled in jest.

Tae gently squeezed at the back of his neck. “It’s better this way.”

 _What does that mean?_ Elliot thought, questioning Tae with a narrowed look. The answer came in the form of the darkness creeping over him, drawing him back into the limbo of unconsciousness.

///

“Moooom!”

Elliot blinked, turning in the direction of the wailing child. The field was familiar, green with summer and with a cheerful blue sky arcing overhead. The tall stalks of grass hissed as the boy rushed past, clutching a limp puppy in his arms. Elliot startled as he recognized his younger self. He couldn’t have been any more than seven at the time.

The boy didn’t see him, running on toward the camp at the far side of the field.

Elliot peered back at the town he’d come from, heart sinking as he remembered. The kids there had looked like promising friends, especially since his older brothers never seemed to have the time for him. His father had warned him to stay at camp but Elliot had slipped off anyway, taking the puppy with him.

The boy tripped and dropped the puppy into the dirt. It whimpered, but weakly wagged its tail as the boy scrambled to scoop it back into his arms. The puppy was dying. Would die, Elliot already knew. It still broke his heart to see it look at him with such warm eyes, happy to be with him despite the cruelty it had suffered.

_[All your memories are sad…]_

“Tae?” Elliot spun, but saw nothing but the fuzzy edges of the memory. A flicker at the corner of his eyes kept his head turning, but as much as he searched, no one was there.

_[Sorry… I wanted to see you.]_

“You’re in my dream?”

_[No. I’m looking through your memories.]_

Elliot glanced at where the boy was sobbing, face pressed into the puppy’s tawny fur. “Is this your power… ?”

_[I… find things. Secrets.]_

Elliot frowned. “What’s so secret about a boy losing his dog?”

_[Your origin.]_

The moment when his powers had first manifested was not something Elliot considered a secret, although he was reluctant to tell anyone that his powers had come into fruition because he’d been distraught over losing his dog. It’d been his birthday gift. A friend to have at his side when his brother so often ditched him for being ‘too little’'. Elliot had thought his brother were mean, but they had nothing on the baseless hate of strangers.

The boy gasped and Elliot knew the squirmy energy he had accidentally touched inside of the dying puppy. It had stuck to his fingers like glue, scaring him, and when he’d jerked away, the spiritual energy had slid free. As the puppy’s body exhaled its last, the energy bubbled silvery-blue in front of the boy.

Free of worldly pain, it bounded around him, silent yet brimming with playful excitement. The more the boy stared at it, thinking of the puppy, the more it molded into the shape of one.

After a stunned minute, the boy laughed and swept the energy up in a hug. It burst and scattered into star dust, but quickly mended together in response to the boy’s startled cry. They ran off together, the ghostly puppy at the boy’s heels.

Elliot watched them disappear toward the camp as the colors seeped from the edges of the memory.

_[I thought the spirits were you… ]_

“They are, eventually, but for a few days they remember themselves.” The spirits had been more distinct when he’d been younger and only had a few of them in what he could only describe as the ‘pool’ of his power. Overtime they melded together, becoming a hive-mind of energy that wore his face and acted on his smallest of whims.

Darkness slithered through the memory, eating away the world. Elliot spun around, afraid. “Wait, what’s happening?“

 _[I have to go. We’re moving again.]_ A hand passed over his brow then through his hair, but when Elliot looked, nothing was there. _[We’ll talk soon.]_

The world fell into shadows.

///

“I don’t understand,” an eleven year old Elliot said to his mother as he watched his father and his two oldest brothers leave. They’d taken one of the wagons, along with some of the horses, and — as Elliot understood it — they were never coming back.

His mother wiped the tears from her face and pulled him close, pushing back his unruly hair. “It’s too dangerous to travel together.”

“I thought it was safer to stick together,” Elliot argued while hugging her back.

His brother, Ricky, made a disgusted noise. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not!”

“We have less of a chance getting caught if we travel in smaller groups.” Ricky was only a couple years older than Elliot, but never passed up the opportunity to act as if he was wiser by ten.

Elliot sniffed, but damn if he was going to cry in front of his brother and get teased for it. “Caught by who? We haven’t done anything to anyone!”

“It’s because of _you_ ,” Ricky spat the words. “If you could keep your power under control, we wouldn’t have to split up.”

“ _Ricky _,” His mother scolded while hugging Elliot tighter. “It’s not Elliot’s fault that people are afraid.”__

____

____

“If it weren’t for him, we could pretend — “

“Enough.” She kissed Elliot’s brow then straightened out the folds of her skirts. “Let’s get the horses ready.”

Elliot shook away from his younger self as he became aware of the memory. The realization had come as he’d gazed at his mother, her features a strange blur. He remembered the color of her hair and her eyes. The sound of her voice was distinct as was the feel of her hugs and the way she pushed back his hair right before telling him to brush it, but the shape of her face eluded him.

He missed her. Ricky too, even if he’d been an asshole for years afterward.

“What’s so secret about this?” Elliot asked, turning his gaze to the graying sky in search of his watcher. “Maybe next time you could pick a happier memory.”

_[… You don’t have any.]_

Relief flooded through Elliot’s mind at the sound of Tae’s voice. “I remember being really excited the first time I caught a fish. Or this one time, with my brother, we — “

_[They’re all sad because you miss them. You miss how things used to be.]_

Elliot’s heart sank with the truth of it and he scrambled to cling onto a happy thought untainted by time. “What about when I met you?”

_[If you knew who I was, you would not look at our meeting as fondly.]_

The dreamscape darkened and Elliot blindly reached for Tae, frantic at the thought of being left alone. His hands found nothing, but he felt arms tightened around his chest. Elliot jerked and the invisible hold held firm. The world around him fractured and streaks of sunlight came through, burning in his skull as he —

— opened his eyes.

The sky was red and cold. Elliot drew in a startled breath, tasting the smoke on the air. Shaking with memories of the bleeding sky hanging over a battlefield, Elliot turned his head. He expected to see rows of tents, or his fellow soldiers crouched nearby with ash-streaked faces and expression gutted by the orders they had followed.

A broken wall blocked his view. The corner posts still stood, black with char and marking the boundaries of where the house had once been. The majority of the other walls and roof had caved in, but there was enough cover around him to provide shelter for the howling wind.

Elliot shivered and again felt the arms tight around his chest.

“Quiet,” Tae whispered from behind, his breath puffed against the back of Elliot’s neck. “It’s not safe.”

Elliot opened his mouth to speak but only managed a pained groan as his throat protested the action. His mouth felt like a desert plain, dry and cracked, and when he licked at his lips, he tasted blood. His arms shook as he pushed at the blanket wrapped around him. The motion proved too much for his dwindling energy and he gave up, sinking into Tae’s hold.

“I’ll give you some water in a bit.” The attempt of comfort was lost under the prevailing cord of tension in Tae’s tone. “You’re sick,” he continued, a quaver sounding in his breath. “We’re almost there, but — “

Rubble shifted nearby, the sound stark in the barren landscape that was void of even the ominous quork of ravens. Tae adjusted his position and Elliot caught sight of the dagger he held. Elliot groped for a weapon, but his arms felt like bags of sand, shifting uselessly beneath the blanket cocooned about him. The wind moaned against the half wall of their shelter.

A shrill whistle of a night hawk pierced the air and Tae relaxed. “Ya. Here.”

Footsteps crunched over the loose debris and Ramya appeared from around the wall. She shouldered a bow as she approached their corner, her eyes glowing softly with golden undertones. “The patrol moved on. Sheila’s tracking them but we need to move fast. Are you _sure_ she’ll be there?”

“She’ll be there,” Tae stated, firmly, then gestured with the dagger. “Hand me the water.”

Her eyes flicked to Elliot. “He’s awake? Already?”

“I’m running out of dwale and it’s not as effective on him.”

Elliot groaned out a protest. _Dwale_. No wonder he couldn’t feel his body enough to make it work. He was as useful as a sack of potatoes and, if the tension in the air was anything to judge by, they were in dangerous territory. His gaze slid along the red skyline, trying to pick out any familiar landmarks. Where were they taking him? Why were they even bothering to drag along his dead weight?

A flask was pressed to his lips. Elliot turned away from it. Just leave him, damnit.

Ramya grabbed him by the chin and jerked his head forward. “You either drink it, or I force it down your throat.”

“Please,” Tae softly pleaded and brought the flask back to his mouth.

They were being stupid, Elliot internally groused while swallowing down the water the best he could without choking. The flurry of motions following his surrender were blurred by his slipping consciousness. The ground beneath him didn’t move. It lifted with him. The world passed in dizzying blips. The last thing he remembered was the foul smell of Sheila’s breath as she licked at his face.

///

“Ellie,” A young man, sandy-haired and green-eyed, crooked a beckoning finger at Elliot.

The eyes were what Elliot remembered most, recalling the thought of never before having seen a pair of eyes so green or so beguiling. It had been a chance meeting in a tavern. Elliot had been fresh out of training and had his marching orders, but had stopped inside for a quick drink and warm meal to settle the nervous fluttering in his stomach..

Joel had been serving tables, friendly and bright-eyed. It’d started with a smile, led to a friendly chat, and ended with careful, lingering touches that had eventually drawn Elliot to the secluded backside of the nearby stable.

Elliot turned away from the memory, but it did little to muffle the sounds. The nervous chuckles; the breathy, hungry kisses; the way Joel groaned when pressed against the wall. Elliot glared at the blurry boundary of the memory. “I don’t want to see this.”

_[It’s one of your happier memories.]_

“It’s _private_.”

Tae scoffed. _[It was my job to find a person’s dirty little secrets.]_

“It’s not dirty — “

His other self stuttered out a moan. “Ah — _fuck_ — just like that.”

“Please,” Elliot growled while closing his eyes to the sight of Joel on his knees. “I don’t want you to see this.”

The dreamscape blurred and spun as Tae cycled through the memories as easily as leafing through the pages of a book. It was dizzying and Elliot wanted to vomit. When he found his bearings, he stood amid a cluster of trees. The morning light slanted through the trees, adding to the golden glow of autumn curtaining the forest floor with fallen leaves.

Elliot spotted himself stepping through the trees, trying not to startle the distressed woman he’d followed there.

“Hello?” His other self called out, keeping distance from the woman huddled naked in the curving roots of a large tree. Her head snapped up, her pales eyes wide with fear. The outline of body flickered and she screamed, collapsing to the ground while clutching at her head.

“Are you okay? That’s a stupid question. You’re not. I can, uh, see that. I, uhm… “ Slowly, as to not scare the woman, Elliot removed his cloak and approached her. “Not going to hurt you. I just — you look cold? Can I, uh, maybe — “ He settled the cloak over her then backed off, offering her a small smile. “My name’s Elliot, and you are… ?”

She clutched at the cloak, drawing it tight around her small frame. Her brow creased with puzzlement as she looked at Elliot, broken and lost, and said, “I don’t know.”

Over time, Elliot had forgotten how he’d first met Renee. She had changed so much from the shattered woman he’d found stumbling through the woods. The moment fell away. Tae flipped through the memories, digging deeper, following the strings of memories connected to her.

The trees gave way to the thin canvas of a tent. A fire flickered somewhere outside, painting the fabric walls a dusky orange. The sound of horses pawing at the ground. The clink and creak of armor of passing soldiers. It was as private of a space as it could be amid a war camp. Although it was dark within the tent, it was impossible to mistake the shape and sounds of the two bodies desperately fucking on the bed.

The blanket shifted, offering a glimpse of Renee’s moon-like eyes shimmering when Elliot lightly bit the side of her neck.

“Stop it, Tae. This is — “ Elliot grit his teeth and looked away from the scene. “It’s none of your business.”

The answering silence from Tae’s end pooled like tar around Elliot’s heart. He tried thinking about something else, anything, to shift the memory, but it was like a pin had been pierced into his skull. His thoughts stuck on that single moment. Elliot closed his eyes. “ _Tae_.”

 _[Can’t help but see the similarities.]_ Tae sounded irritated. _[You helped me, like you helped her. You want me, like you — ]_

“It’s not like that.” Elliot shook his head. “Are you to tell me you have all this access to my memories but no context to understand it?”

_[It doesn’t need context.]_

Vexed, Elliot bit down on his words and waited it out, knowing the frantic affair happening in the tent had been a short event. It didn’t end with satisfied groans or warm hums of affection. It ended with stillness, panting, and a silence that was sharp enough to cut. Several quiet beats passed before a pair of choked sobs broke through. He cried into Renee’s bare shoulder and she did her best to comfort him.

“Earlier that day,” Elliot said to his watcher. “Our unit came across a hanging tree. Maybe ten or more people — my brother was one of them. We weren’t allowed to cut them down. I had to leave him there. All of them. I was… “ He glanced at where he laid in Renee’s arms. “She was trying to help.”

The silence continued, but Elliot could feel the tendrils of Tae’s power as he peeked at other connected avenues of memory. _[It’s not the only time you were with her.]_

Anger billowed up in Elliot’s chest. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation. What had happened in the past was between him and Renee. Tae had no right digging into it. “It was _war_. I was — we were — “

A knot formed in Elliot’s chest, lodged like an iron spike just under his heart. It was important to him for Tae to understand the reason why they’d fallen into bed together. It’d been a comfort when everything else was death and despair. It’d been something to hold on to to keep sane while the world around them burned.

“All we had was each other and — and — “

_[You love her?]_

“I — well, yes and no. I care for her, yeah, but I wouldn’t call it _love_. Sex isn’t love. It’s — what does it matter? Are you — is this about my feelings toward you?”

_[You’re just lonely.]_

“Isn’t everyone?” The dreamscape smoothed into the grays of limbo. Elliot glared at the marred scenery. “Why are you doing this?”

Tae sighed and, through the murky haze, Elliot heard a woman’s voice.

_”Lost your touch, hm?” she said._

_“There is a lot to wade through,” Tae grumbled defensively._

_“It’s bad, y’know? This kind of fraying? It didn’t happen overnight. This boy has war written all over him. Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. Dun blame yourself for it.”_

_“I’ll find it.”_

_“Nah, not now you won’t. You’re going to take a break before I end up stitching you up again — dun gimme that look. You know I’m right. I’ll take good care of him, so go on with ya.”_

Invisible fingers brushed along Elliot’s temple and the gray gave away to black.

///

Another memory; a battlefield along Hammond’s borders. His blade slick with blood and his eyes burning silver-blue. The memory stuttered, jumping between points in time as Tae rifled through several others, only dwelling on each one long enough for a quick glance.

Elliot jerked away from the images like a dog fighting the pull of a leash. Power raked along the inside of his skull, sharp as an ice pick, and Elliot screamed into the void. “Stop!” His plea was lost as a new memory jumped forward. The cold, gray front of houses lining the road snaking through the village. Paving stones under his feet, an angry mob of townsfolk ahead of him.

Fingers were pointed, words were spit, and a thrown stone clipped his shoulder.

“Stop — “ The pain in his head was drowning him “What are you looking for? I’ll help you just — stop.”

_[I can’t. I have to find it.]_

“Find _what?_ ”

_[I’ll know when I find it.]_

“Tae…”

_[Quiet. I need to focus.]_

The whirlwind of time continued and for a time Elliot lost himself to the blur of madness. He dug in his mental heels in an attempt to make it stop. “Please — it hurts.”

The spinning slowed, settling into shifting hues of gray. As Elliot struggled to recover, he heard a soft sob. A harsh exhale of emotion, like a blustering wind battering the shutters of a window, and then it began to rain. No. Wait. That was wrong. Elliot tilted his head up to the nonexistent sky. Two drops splashed against his face. Warm against his cheeks. The third tasted of salt as it fell on his parted lips. Tears? Tae was…

“Did I die?” Elliot asked, dazed.

Arms fastened around him, hauling him into a hug he couldn’t return. _[Not yet.]_

But he was dying, Elliot surmised by the way Tae choked with emotion. “Well,” he mused. “It’s nice to know someone will cry at my graveside. Maybe bring some flowers? I’ve always liked lilies.”

More tears tickled down Elliot’s neck. _[It’s not funny.]_

Honestly, part of Elliot was relieved at the thought of dying. Everything was such a mess and he didn’t know how to fix any of it. It felt easier to just let it go. All the worries. All the hurt. All the dreams he continued to hold onto even thought they grown jagged and poisonous. Tae was right; he was lonely. It was a hole inside of him he couldn’t figure out how to fill. Every time he tried, the hole ended up bigger than before.

Yet…

It was agony to feel Tae’s tears and be unable to do anything about them.

“Can you wake me up?” Elliot asked.

 _[No.]_ The hug loosened and the grays began to sharpen as Tae’s power delved back into his memories. _[It’s easier to look when you sleep.]_

“What could you possibly find in my head that can help?”

The flickering memories slowed. _[Ajay is trying to fix your spellweave but there’s so much damage — she can’t tell where it’s all meant to connect. I have to… find it.]_

It didn’t make any sense to Elliot, but he was helpless to do anything other than go along with the torrential current. He held his breath, unable to find the surface, his bearings, to suck in steadying breath. Tae’s search was frantic and the memories tore like book pages being turned too quickly.

“Please… “

Teardrops fell against his collar bone, but the tendrils of power didn’t cease, not until they brushed against something that made Elliot gasp. Ice shot through him as the power latched onto the memory and pulled it forward. The world burst into color. An evening sky stained red by the rising plumes of smoke. Another town gone, except this one had been protected, well behind the warring line between the quarreling kingdoms. It was suppose to _safe_ , she had assured him she would be _safe_ there —

The fields were scorched, the ashes still warm as Elliot ran across the town outskirts.

Most of Elliot’s memories were tinged with sadness, malformed by pain, but they were bearable. This one, however, was something he had buried underneath all the others. It went beyond pain. It didn’t just cut into him, it burrowed in like a festering rot and ate him alive.

His armor bounced noisily as he pushed himself faster.

The house was small, but it had been worlds bigger than a wagon. It had space for a garden, something his mother had always wanted but always been denied. Their lives had been bound to the road, leaving no time for roots to grow other than the familial links they forged. She’d been so happy to settle, to have a real place to call _home_.

Now the walls were black from a mage’s flame, the ground burnt to the point where nothing would ever grow again. He could taste the ash of it on his tongue as shouted, spotting her body in the garden. Her wheat-colored hair caked with blood and dirt. Her clothes burned into her skin. He took her into his arms as if she were made of glass. Fragile, as if she wasn’t already broken.

Rage shook down his arms while anguish stole the air from his lungs. It wasn’t fair. He’d deluded himself into thinking she would still be there after the war — if the war ever ended — if he even survived it. He thought, after losing everyone else, the fates would be kind and spare her. Now he had nothing. No one.

And he didn’t want to be alone.

His eyes misted with silver as he pushed his power into her. Her heart no longer beat but he felt her soul fluttering weakly. It was warm against the cool brush of his magic. Given time it would fade — and then what? She’d be gone. Forever. He wasn’t ready for that. Afraid, Elliot wrapped his power around her soul and yanked it free.

No…

No no no.

Horror washed over Elliot as he realized the extent of his selfishness, the monstrous truth of his power. He yelled as he tried to put it back. His power surged, the tether to the ether bulging and rupturing as Elliot shoved the magic against its natural flow. His spellweave burned and frayed and —

The world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holo-days!
> 
> Comments always appreciated! <3


	5. Chapter 5

_I’m sorry,_ a voice whispered in the dark. Elliott swam after it. A hand gripped his and then — nothing. Lost and alone, Elliott’s world swayed between fevers and chills. He tossed and turned like a ship caught in a storm. In the rare moments of lucidity, when Elliott found his voice, he groaned and blindly groped for stability. He writhed in protest and, after what felt like years in purgatory, his eyes opened.

Torches lit up the stone walls, the flames flickering over the bulbous surface and making the elongated shadows quiver. Was it night? Elliott’s gaze slid along the irregular curves of solid rock. A basement, perhaps.

Breathing hurt, the air tasted bitter in Elliott’s mouth. It reminded him of being in camp after a skirmish and the foul stuff the medics would smear along his wounds to prevent infection. Moans from elsewhere in the room supported the thought.

Elliott squinted into the dimly lit nooks on the far side, watching as a robed woman appeared to calm the distressed groans of an ailing man. Some sort of hospital, Elliott decided, though the hushed ambiance to the place gave him chills.

Elliott wiggled his fingers and his toes, and, finding those attempts successful, he shifted his arm to the side. His legs followed, curling over the edge of the bed so he could push himself into a sitting position. He felt bruised and stiff. How far had Ramya and Tae —

His lucid moments — the memories and the sporadic moments he’d been conscious — pushed forward like a bubble rising through the mud. When it burst, he doubled over and emptied the pitiful contents of his stomach into the nearest object. A chamber pot set near his beside did the honors. Elliott shivered against the tremble knocking up his spine. He reached to pull at the thin sheet and discovered himself naked underneath.

“Good, you’re up,” A dark-skinned woman said as she entered his nook. Her hair was dyed red and pulled back into a bun. A smattering of freckles soften her features, turning her stern glance kind instead of harsh. Elliott looked her over, struck by a sense of familiarity in the woman. She poured him a cup of water from a nearby stand and handed it to him. “How ya feelin’?”

Elliott tucked the fabric around himself before accepting the water. He peered at it, suspicious after knowing how he’d been drugged over the last few days.

“It’s just water,” she assured him. The dark khol around her eyes gave them a large, almond-like shape. “Not gonna hurt ya.”

After a cautious sip, which he swished around and spat into the chamber pot, Elliott gulped down the rest. It washed the cobwebs from his dry throat but settled like a jagged stone in his empty belly. Feeling a little more grounded, Elliott took another look around the make-shift infirmary. Through a scratchy throat he asked, “Where am I?”

“Olympus.”

His stomach clenched around the water and his eyes shot toward the nearest exit-looking doorway. Olymups was beyond Blisk’s lands. It was Warlord territory; a death sentence for a mage. The Warlord there favored the Head Hunters, having made them a core part of his armies. Magic, to the Warlord, was something to be eradicated if it could not be curbed and controlled like a slave.

Why had he been brought there?

“Is ‘Ajay’ here?” Elliott dared to ask, remembering the name from the fragments of memories available to him.

The woman tensed and her mouth dropped open. She recovered quickly, first narrowing a suspicious look on him before brushing it all aside with a single shoulder shrug and a dismissive snort. “You’re lookin’ at her.”

Elliott studied her again, unable to shake the feeling of Deja Vu. Perhaps they had met during wartime. Healers were rare, often treated like royalty and kept close to high-ranking officials. Ajay held herself like a noble, her posture stark against the drab backdrop of stone walls and ailing patients. “And my friends that brought me… ?”

Pity softened Ajay’s expression and Elliott’s heart flopped in response. Had they gotten caught? Elliott gripped at the sheets as his distress surged. His spellweave strained around the accompanying swell in magic. It burned. His chest felt like it’d been lashed in oiled ropes and set aflame. Yet it didn’t spread into his eyes, nor did the familiar silver-blue motes appear around him. Elliott pressed a hand to the burning sensation in his chest. He’d grown so used to being surrounded by his leaking magic, to find it absent was baffling.

“You’re not fixin’ to tear up all the hard work I did now are ya?” Ajay ran a critical look over him.

Elliott rubbed at his sternum. “I forgot what it feels like not to… “ he shrugged, wary to mention magic in such unfriendly lands.

“Spill magic all over the damn place like some reveling drunk?” Ajay asked, unafraid, and arched a brow at him in challenge.

Ice trickled down Elliott’s spine. He nervously glanced at the room, at the lack of attention they were drawing, then gave Ajay a meek nod. “But you fixed it?”

“I mended it,” Ajay corrected, though Elliott didn’t understand the difference. She regarded him coolly. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to yourself?”

Elliott studied the uneven wall while affecting an innocent tone, “I used too much magic… ?”

She tutted at him, shook her head, then asked, “How much do you know about your magic?”

Admittedly, not a lot. Elliott rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Ajay. Once upon a time, as his mother told it, there used to be universities and books and mentors, that magic had once been seen as a special gift. The tension between mages and regular folk had been tense before the war. After it, actively studying magic was considered an act of treason. Mages still did it, of course, because even if they followed the laws, Head Hunters found a way to judge them guilty.

“Not much, I’d wager,” Ajay said with a soft sight and crossed the room to grab a bowl from a table set against the wall.. She returned and sat next to him. Elliott glanced at the contents, an assortment of nuts. She set the bowl aside and took up both of his hands.

“Imagine this is your spellweave,” she said while arranging his fingers to criss-cross like a fisherman’s net. And this — “ Cupping his palms around his splayed fingers, she dumped in half the nuts from the bowl. A few fell through the gaps between his fingers, but tension and gravity held the rest in place. “— is your magic.”

Elliott smirked at his hands. “Always was told I was something of a nut.”

She chuckled and the sound of it expanded through his chest like rising dough. It felt good to make someone laugh. She lifted his hands to eye level. “Normally, magic can’t pass through the weave without some sort of manipulation from a mage.” She poked at one of the gaps causing a couple of nuts to fall through the finger-sieve.

“But sometimes, something happens, and the weave frays.” She shifted his fingers, widening some of the gaps.. “Sometimes threads break.” She pulled one of his fingers away and the nuts trickled out. “With you,” she said while dumping the rest of the bowl into his hands.

Again Elliott smirked. “I have a lot of nuts?”

Her lips quirked, amused, but she remained on task. “You have an unusual amount of magic all stuffed into one little net which you’ve neglected.” She wiggled his hands. The falling bits of ‘magic’ reminded him of how his spirits often wiggled through his weave despite his attempts to keep them contained. She abruptly pulled his hands apart and the magic went everywhere.

Elliott studied the mess, trying to understand the point Ajay was trying to convey with the demonstration. “So I’m a fisherman with a bad net and all my little fishies keep slipping through? But you fixed my net, so… “

She shook her head and began sweeping the nuts back into the bowl. “Mending your weave doesn’t change the fact that you’re carrying too much. What do you know about the ether?”

“Other than it’s where magic comes from… ?”

“The ether is raw magic, too dangerous to handle directly, like a poison. But if you dilute it, it can be used safely. This is what the spellweave does for a mage, it dilutes the ether, but a mage with a damaged weave risks killing themselves with raw magic.”

Elliott looked from the nuts, to his hands, then to Ajay’s face. “I… poisoned myself?”

“In a sense.” Ajay frowned. “It was a near thing with you. Almost lost ya. I’ve mended your weave, but it’s bound to break again if you keep holding on to too much power.”

He furrowed his brow. “How do I hold onto less?”

Her shoulders raised in a helpless gestures. “It’s different for every mage. I put you back together, but you will have to find a way to let go of what it is you’re holding onto.”

His shoulders hackled with an understanding. It was the spirits he held onto because he didn’t want to lose them, to be alone. The thought of letting them go turned his blood into an icy sludge. Deciding the worth of keeping them over his good health shouldn’t have been a debate, yet he quarreled with it.

Not wanting to delve into the matter any further, Elliot circled back to his original question. “Where are my friends?”

She frowned. “I made a promise to see you well. I mean to see that through and not have you run off and do something foolhardy.”

“That implies there is something worth me being a fool over.”

With a sigh, Ajay stood and motioned him to follow. “You need to eat — and bathe.” She glanced back at his hesitation and smirked. “Use the sheets for now, they need to be washed anyway.”

Not knowing where he was, or where his friends were, Elliot saw no other option other than to wrap the sheets around his nakedness and follow after her. He wobbled as he stood. Black butterflies fluttered at the corners of his vision, but didn’t swarm it. His steps were small but determined as he transversed the uneven floor.

Ajay slowed her pace to accommodate him. “I’ll admit, I’m also a touch curious.”

“About?”

“About you.”

She led him through an archway and down a hall. More stone greeting his searching gaze. Elliott glanced in each doorway they passed, hoping to find the stairs leading out. It all looked the same to him, but Ajay’s pace didn’t falter. She paused at a door, set amid a hall of identical doors, and motioned him to walk through.

“Tae Joon took a great risk bringing you here,” She said with caution, her eyes studying him as he passed. “I’m curious to learn what made you so special.”

A humorous retort sat on his tongue, but was crushed by his worry for Tae and Ramya. He didn’t think of himself worth the effort they had gone through in order to bring him to Ajay. Why _had_ Tae taken such a risk? Ramya was his friend, as much as they bickered, they had traveled together long enough to be anything less. Tae was very much a stranger to him. Though there were feelings there, ones Elliott would admit to being mostly his, it didn’t seem enough to explain Tae’s actions

Elliott rubbed at a sharp ache in his temple. His memories were addled, bruised in a way from Tae’s dredging. While he remembered the emotions and the tears that had been shed during the journey to Olympus, it was shaded with a rosy layer of surreality. Elliott couldn’t quite decide how real it had all been.

The room he stepped into was wide, empty save for a few chairs and metal tubs. The floor was smooth aside from carved grooves that sloped toward the middle where a drain had been chiseled out. Elliott scanned the room before looking back at Ajay in the doorway.

“Tae owed me a debt,” he said, saddened by the truth behind the words, then elaborated at the questioning look Ajay gave him in return. “I think I saved his life.” Unwittingly, as it was. He hadn’t known the soldiers were after Tae, but he had given him a place to rest and food to eat. It was unlikely Tae would have survived much longer on his own given that he’d crawled into a wagon, desperate for safety. “Guess it’s only right he saved mine.”

“I don’t think that’s quite it,” Ajay murmured, then turned away to grab the attention of a passing woman. She ordered the bath to be filled and a meal to be served. The woman bowed her head, obedient, and as Elliott’s was once more struck with a cord of familiarity toward Ajay, an uneasy off-tune ringing of alarm.

He waited until the woman left before asking, “What’s your surname?”

The look she cut toward him gave him chills. “You haven’t guessed?”

He had, hoping he was wrong. “You uh, you — you look a lot like your mother.”

Ajay rolled her eyes and directed a frown at the hallway. “Don’t be worrying your pretty head over it. I don’t want to see you dead like her.”

Despite the reassurance, his heart continued to race. “Quite the scandal, though, huh? The Che Warlord’s daughter is a _mage_?”

“Be warned.” She didn’t look amused. “Openly speaking of such blasphemy in these parts will lose you your head.”

Elliott nodded, his words fleeing him. The air grew stiff without them. He gathered the sheets around himself and sat in one of the chairs, feeling weary. The woman Ajay had spoken to in the hall returned with others, filling the bath with warm water and handing him a hunk of bread along with a bowl of thin soup. Elliott ate, starved for it even though his stomach cramped from the intrusion.

“Your friend,” Ajay said from where she lingered by the door. “The one with the wolf, she’s around, waiting to take you back.”

“But not Tae,” Elliott stated.

Ajay shook her head. “He shouldn’t have come back.”

“Is he — “ his throat constricted around the distressing words.

“He’s alive,” She reassured him, but cut off his following questions with a wave of her hand. The topic of Tae was not open for discussion. “One of the girls will bring you a change of clothes and show you to a room. Rest, it’s the best thing you can do right now.”

Elliott sullenly bowed his head and held on to his arguments. If she had known him at all, she wouldn’t have left him then. He had no intentions of staying put. He did bathe, grateful for the blessing of warm water and scented soap. The clothes brought to him were simple, a lace-up tunic to be worn over a long sleeve shirt and a pair of ill-fitting trousers. The shoes were thin, nearly sole-less, but appreciated.

Later, he was shown to a small room filled with a bed, a small table and chair, a lit candle set in a hollow on the far wall. Elliott laid on the bed, plotting his escape, and — overcome by the strain of his recovery — promptly fell asleep.

He woke to the sound of the door opening as a woman came in, set down a plate of food, and changed the candle that had burned down to a nub. Elliott thanked her but waited until the door had shut before pulling himself out of bed. He felt better, steadier. The soup was warm and only made his stomach protest in small gurgles. He cleaned the bowl and, once he was sure he wasn’t being drugged, he fled the stone confines.

An afternoon sun glared red and angry from where Elliott could see it from between the peaked roofs around him. He eased out of the catacombs, in the shade of an alley, and squinted at the hazy sky. He’d been told the lands around Olympus were renowned for their beauty, yet it was a shame they always felt the need to burn them.

The stones of the alley were slick with grime. Men and women and children were huddled along the walls, their faces streaked with ash. Some of them held bowls much like the one he’d eaten from moments earlier. They wore rags and bandages and didn’t bother to look up at him as he passed.

Elliott stepped out of the alley and onto a thoroughfare the same moment a cat threaded through his legs, tripping him. He hit the stones and groaned. The cat rushed up to his face, yeowling. It was white, or should have been white, its short fur stained with the grime of the street.

Elliot gently rebuffed it as he climbed back onto his feet. But as soon as he stepped forward, the cat was there, latching onto his ankle with needle-like claws.

“Get off!” He pushed at the cat, only to get bitten.

The cat ran darted from his swatting hand. It stopped several feet away and turned, its tail lashing and its ears flat against its skull. Elliott glared back at its furious yellow eyes. “Don’t give me that look. _You_ attacked _me_ and I don’t even have any food.”

It growled.

Elliott stepped back and the cat inched closer, tail whipping with irritation. Elliott stopped and so too did the cat. It was crazed. Had to be. That cat dashed up the street in the opposite direction Elliot had been going, then it turned, yeowling at him. Elliott glanced at the few people on the street, none of them paying much mind to the oddity, and then he cautiously stepped toward the cat.

The cat’s posture relaxed.

Curious, Elliot stepped in the other direction and instantly the cat coiled back up, hissing.

“Alright.”Elliott raised his hands in surrender. “I’m following you.”

Trailing after the cat drew less attention than quarreling with it. The cat didn’t seem to trust him at first; its ears remained folded back and every so often it would turn and lash its tail. After a while, it padded softly down the street instead of skulking. _Perfectly normal_ , Elliott thought, vexed yet amused, harboring the thought that they shared a particular mutual acquaintance.

The suspicion turned fact as the feline led him to an open market, to where Ramya sat in an empty stall. As he approached, a different cat — black one with a kinked tail — rushed up to Ramya. It set its paws against her leg, staring at her. She stared back, motionless for a moment, then she softly tsked before handing it a piece of food from her pocket. The black cat darted away.

Elliott’s escort jumped onto the narrow table nearest to her and yeowled his complaints. Ramya’s eyes shot to it, then up to Elliott. She grinned. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t stay put.”

“No one was there to drug me,” Elliot shrugged and leaned against the empty stall. He motioned to his unhappy guide. “Aren’t you worried about drawing attention to yourself?”

A portion of food was paid to the cat. It looked at the small portion, growling, then clawed at the air in front of Ramya. She scoffed, then set down a bigger portion, some kind of smoked fish by the looks and smell of it. The cat gathered the pieces into its mouth and ran off, disappearing into the busy market.

Ramya turned to Elliott. “No one pays any mind to the crazy lady talking to herself and feeding the cats.”

“Where’s Sheila?” He asked.

“Guard duty.”

Elliott arched a brow at that, but Ramya didn’t elaborate. Another cat came and went and, hands empty, Ramya wiped her fingers on her trousers. She startled him by pulling him into a brisk hug. Elliott barely brushed his hands against her sides in return before she pulled away. She’d always been odd with physical contact, preferring the company of animals to people.

“Right, shall we then?” She turned, leaving the stall and forcing him to scramble after her.

“Wait.” He quickened his stride to head her off, much like the cat had thwarted him earlier. “Do you know where Tae is? I have a feeling he’s in trouble.”

“Oh, he’s in trouble alright.” Ramya crossed her arms, cocking her hip to one side. “Although, considering what he is, I’m not sure we should care.”

Elliott sputtered at the thought. As far as he understood it, he was alive because of Tae. “ _Ramya_.” He grabbed her arm, but she knocked his hand aside.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for his help in getting you fixed up, but as far as I see it, it was owed and only a drop in the bucket of what is due. You’re beloved cat, mate, is a bloody Head Hunter.”

The words hit him like a storm wind. He stepped back from the force of them and shook his head, his thoughts scrambling for the ground to dispute her claim. “No. _No_ He’s not — no, he’s not.”

“Don’t be daft. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“I’m sure there’s a reason. A misunderstanding. You’re mistaken, somehow. Tae’s not — “ Elliott clamped a hand over his blubbering mouth.

 _I find things. Secrets._ It made sense, in hindsight, why Tae wasn’t forthcoming with his past. _If you knew who I was, you would not look at our meeting as fondly._

“Damnit Tae,” Elliott cursed into his palm. He closed his eyes, pained. There _had_ to be a reasonable explanation to it all. _Had_ to be. Whatever. Elliott lowered his hand and again shook his head. As much as the thought of Tae being one of ‘them’ twisted at his gut, it didn’t deter him from wanting to find him. He calmly regarded Ramya. “Where is he?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s a terrible idea,” she said.

Having no other thoughts than finding Tae, Elliott squinted at her. “What are _you_ thinking?”

Slowly, but surely, a feral grin stretched across her face. She hooked a finger into his sleeve cuff and towed him along. They left the market, following the main thoroughfare out of the city. Castle Olympus heralded over them from the cliff it was built into. It gleamed white as ivory, glistening under the sun, casting a shadow of judgment over the ashen streets below it.

Beyond the ramparts, the devastation to the lands was daunting. The trees had been culled, the fields burned, and in the deadened land, stone barracks had been erected. Tents were set in neat lines between the buildings. Soldiers in uniform milled about, occasionally stirred up by the passing robes of Head Hunters.

Seeing them, distinctive in their black robes with the loop of crimson knots along their left shoulders, sent chills down Elliott’s spine. They moved differently than the soldiers, their stride slicked with the power they wielded over a man’s life. Their words carried a death sentence. Innocent or not, being singled out by a Head Hunter often ended with a noose being tied or a pyre being built.

“Could you look anymore like a rabbit being spotted by the hounds?” Ramya jeered while yanking him behind the ruins of an old farmhouse. They skirted the war camp, trudged along the dead fields that stirred the ashes in Elliott’s heart. He hated how familiar it was to him, how much it hurt to walk the edges of his more painful memories of his years spent at war.

“When my brothers talked about them, they made them sound like bogeymen. Like if one saw me, I’d be frozen to the spot and they’d swoop down on me, peck out my eyes and suck out my soul.” Elliott muttered as he glanced in the direction of the camp.

Ramya gave a derisive snort. “They’re just men who think they’ve got cocks as long as their legs.”

She led him to the remains of a granary. The stone silo stood, but the windmill that had turned its wheels had long burned down to charred nubs. Inside, Elliot halted at the sight of three men, bound and gagged, lying on the floor in nothing but their under clothes. Sheila laid against the wall behind them, rising up to warmly greet Ramya.

Elliott planted his hands on his hips and surveyed the troubled before him. “Do I want to know what you’re doing with three naked men?”

“Don’t get jealous,” she shot back with a grin, then kicked a leather vambrace toward him. Elliott picked it up and turned it between his hands, then examined the pile it’d come from. Armor, helmets, boots — Elliott toed at a tabard, recognizing the sigils and colors from the war camp outside. The vambrace fit well enough around his arm. He grinned, then peered at Ramya. “Do I get to know the plan?”

“Later,” She tossed over the matching vambrace then dug into the pile to find herself a breast plate. “First I need to show you something.”

He rummaged through the pile, pulling on the better fitting pieces. All the while his heart bounced off his ribs.He needed to find Tae and — and Elliott didn’t know. _Talk_ to him, at the least. He needed to know — everything. How had Tae become a Head Hunter? Why would he be one? Why did he help Elliott? Why had he been pursued by those soldiers on Solace’s lands?

Troubled, Elliott stared at the hostage soldiers. Either by chance, or on purpose, Ramya had taken three men prisoner. A last set of armor laid on the floor and Elliott studied the pieces while a thread of hope burned through his core. If he could convince Tae to leave...

“You alright?” Ramya asked, peering at him while also trying to wrangle her hair under a half-helm.

In truth, no, he wasn’t anywhere near alright. He didn’t know what to think about Tae being part of a group that had killed his family; he felt worn and beaten from his recent magic-related illness, and to top it off, the cinch and weight of the familiar armor came with the burden of his memories. His spellweave was straining against the swelling distress of it all.

Elliot closed his eyes, breathing out, then nodded to Ramya. “Let’s find Tae.”

It was surprisingly easy to walk into the camp. Elliott led, shielding Ramya’s slight build in the bulky armor from drawing too much attention. She nudged him in the right direction and, with a soldier’s mindless trudge, Elliott went. They moved along the tents, where discipline was slack, and avoided the areas that had been cleared for training.

Out past the latrine ditches, where the land sloped into shallow dips, make-shift cages had been constructed. They were as wide as a single bed, but half as long, and inside half of them a person sat or paced in feverish circles. All of them were at the mercy of the elements. Prisoners, but not highly-regarded ones. Elliott glanced at Ramya who answered his unspoken question with a grim look. There were only two kinds of prisoners the Warlord Che took: royalty for ransom and mages that were considered useful.

It didn’t take long for Elliot to pick out Tae from the miserable prisoners. He sat in the dirt, his back to the bars, but familiar in the wide sleeves and green vest. He looked small, vulnerable, and Elliott didn’t realize he’d broken from cover, intent on free Tae, until Ramya yanked him back down. She smacked a hand over his mouth before he could do more than gather the hot air of protest into his lungs.

The air creaked like a broken glass, it was a sound akin to flat, sharp edges sliding against each other, on the verge of shattering, and Elliott immediately felt ill. Another mage’s power skated like a dagger tip down the ridges of his spine and the threads connecting Elliot to the ether withered. He was cut off from his magic, not by his own doing, but from the malignant aura of a different mage. Elliot hunkered down next to Ramya.

There had been a handful of times Elliott had experienced the nullifying aura. Once during the war, then several times afterward. Just about every mage knew it, and knew to fear it.

Revenant, an infamous head-hunter, a man better regarded as death incarnate than a man at all, was tall and spindly like a skeleton. He was a mage, like them, but he was a poison to them all. He took joy in the hunt, in how he rendered even the most powerful mages helpless with his ability to sever them from the ether.

Revenant strolled along the cages and the mages within them flinched away, curling in on themselves like wilting flowers.

He paused beside Tae’s cage.

“Had enough yet?” Revenant’s voice was a low, purring growl that Elliott strained to hear. “Glare all you want, you’ll break, you always do.”

 _They’ve met before,_ Elliot realized and shared a questioning glance with Ramya. Of course they had, because Tae was a Head Hunter, right? Then why was he in a cage?

“I’ll admit,” Revenant said. “The irony of having you back behind bars puts a smile on my face. Tell me, do you have a new offer for me?”

Tae spat to the side.

Revenant looked down at his foot, then back to Tae. “You’ll change your mind. A week or two out here and you’ll be begging for me to take you back into the fold.” He leered at Tae a moment longer before moving on, continuing his stroll.

Elliott waited until the crackle in the air lifted, until he could feel the warm netting of his spellweave, before he dared to whisper to Ramya. “We need to get Tae out of here.”

“We’re going to get them all out.”

 _All?_ Elliott’s brow furrowed as he counted the cages. There were twenty in all, but only half of them looked occupied. “How?”

Ramya pushed a roll of tools into his hands. “You’re going to get them all ready to run.”

“We can’t just _run_ — “

“Everyone’s going to be running in a bit, mate.” With one last grin, Ramya took off, disappearing around the corner of a barrack.

Elliott unrolled the cloth and frowned at the lockpick tools inside. Popping locks had never been his strong suit, but he also didn’t see any there way one such short notice. He tucked the tools under his arm and made straight for Tae’s cage. There he dropped the bundle near the bars.

Tae tensed, but didn’t acknowledge him.

Elliot knelt and inspected the heavy lock. “What kind of trouble did you stick your nose into this time, kitty-kat?”

“ _Elliott?_ ” Tae spun around, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Brushing off the helm, Elliott grinned. “Your knight in shining arm— “

Tae had reached through the bars, seizing handfuls of the tabard Elliot wore, and had hauled him forward. Elliott grunted with surprise, then sucked in a shocked breath as Tae’s desperate hands cupped the back of his neck, forcing him close enough to press a hard kiss to his mouth.

“You’re alright!” Tae said as he broke the kiss, his joy flaring bright before it broke, darkening like a storm cloud rolling over a mountain top. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Elliott clutched at bars, dazed. “You — “ there were words somewhere in his swirling thoughts, passing through his grasp like minnows in the water. “ _You_ shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s too dangerous here for you,” Tae firmly stated.

Elliott snorted, “I’m not the one in a cage.”

“They won’t kill me. I’m too useful.”

“I — really, you want me to leave you here?” Absolutely absurd. Elliot shook his head and began to work at the lock. “This is — no. I’m not leaving you to — to whatever is going on here.”

“Elliott,” Tae sighed, again reached through the bars, fingers coasting along his cheeks, drawing his attention away from the lock. “Please, listen to me. You need to go.”

He pulled away from the touch. “Not a chance.”

“If you knew the things I’ve done,” Tae said miserably. “You’d leave me here.”

The truth was an ugly thing, twisted and unkind. Tae had been a Head Hunter. For how long, or to what extent, Elliot didn’t know. It couldn’t have been anything good. He might not have been the executioner, but he had played his part in it all. Elliott searched Tae’s face for the rest of the story, but all he found was Tae’s desire to be left behind. To what? Die?

“That’s a conversation for later,” Elliott murmured.

Tae covered his hands with his own, cold and coated in dirt. Elliott stared at them, once again halted in his task. “Thank you,” Tae said, though it sounded more like a goodbye than an expression of gratitude. Tae had given up hope. “You were the only one that had been kind to me, in a long time.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Even though I attacked you.”

Elliott gently rebuffed the touch so he could concentrate on turning the lock. “Water under the bridge, like I said, and don’t thank me yet. I’ve never been good with locks.”

Sighing with a note of irritation, Tae snatched the tools from Elliott’s hands.

“Hey!” Elliott shouted then clamped a furious hand over his own mouth. He searched the grounds, but other than the curious gaze of the other caged prisoners, no one came to investigate.

The lock clicked.

Surprised, Elliott blinked down at where Tae worked the lock off of the door. Elliot huffed a quiet laugh. “I’m learning all sorts of things about you today.”

Tae glowered, but accepted Elliott’s offered hand. Elliott helped him from the cage, joy surging through him, and he playfully brushed a kiss across the back of Tae’s hand.

Tae scowled in response, but it did little to hide the blush darkening in his cheeks.

“Not to complain,” Elliott mused, his mood as light as a feather on a billowing wind. “But you smell worse than Sheila.”

Tae snatched his hand back and shoved at Elliot’s chest. “ _Yeot-meog-eo!_ ”

Knowing a swear when he heard one, Elliot grinned and caught Tae around the waist, pulling him close. Tae leaned in to the contact and Elliott’s heart soared. He would have kissed Tae, if not for the deepening look of confusion on Tae’s face. His eyes were pinned on something beyond Elliott. Fearing that Revenant had returned, Elliot spun around, hand fisting in Tae’s shirt in preparation to take him and _run_.

The field ahead of him was barren, but the skyline was darkening ominously. A thickening flock of birds blotted out the sun like a bulging thunderhead. There was something wrong about the birds, something off about their movements and how it sounded as their wings cut through the air.

“Are those bats?” Tae asked.

“Oh.” Remembering Ramya’s last words, Elliott chuckled. He looked from the descending flock of leathery wings to the squirming land around them. Packs of rats and mice appeared, crawling out from the latrine ditch and their earthy burrows. A shout went up from the camp, a frightened soldier, and Elliott offered Tae a wry grin before passing him the lockpick tools. He’d need the help to open the other cages. “I don’t know how well you got to know Ramya, but she’s kinda… “

“Intense?”

“I was going to say crazy, but yeah, we’ll go with that.” Elliott nudged Tae toward the nearest cage while his eyes strayed to the descending mass of dark wings and high-pitched screeches.

The camp was stirring as squads of trained men scrambled, at a loss of how to defend themselves against the vermin horde. Ramya wasn’t wrong; _everyone_ was soon running for cover. Soldiers crammed into the barracks, or tried to hide in their tents. In the chaos, someone had knocked over a cooking fire and the flames were spreading, slowly eating through the bits of dead grass before finding a tent cloth to latch onto.

As the pandemonium unfolded, Elliott took Tae’s hand and led him away from the war camp, back to the granary. There they found Ramya, cackling like a mad woman, utterly wiped from using so much power. As she slipped unconscious, Elliot carried her with Tae’s help. Together they fled, using Sheila as a guide to escape into the craggy bluffs that protected Olympus from its neighboring lands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Life got a bit bumpy.  
> I end this chapter with the promise of the next one being just the two of them!


End file.
